They Come

Sat, 09/04/2021 - 18:19 -- Julia F

They Come  


They come in the dawn. 
They come in the night.

They come in the dark.

They come in the light.


They come in the Morning,

And afternoon.

They come in the evening,

And when the clock strikes noon. 

They come in ones and twos and threes; 

They come with rice and wine and ease.

They come with only one thing in mind; 

They come for me, 

For I am hardly one of a kind,

In their eyes. 

They come to get their fix of choice. 
They point at me, Like I am a toy 

On a shelf,

For use by all of them.

I have been turned into an object,

With which to have sex.


Its face,

Marred with use.

Its body,

Scarred from abuse, 

Its mind,

One large bruise,

Only able to muse

Over the fact that it can no longer refuse 

Any of them.


I hear the sound

Of the old deadbolt. 

It locks me in and others out, 

Adding injury to old insult. 

They leave me,

Who they think is so pretty,

In the hands of the Chinese,

Until the next time. 

Even though I have now escaped, 

I still feel like I am a sex slave.

To this day,

I still am in the sex trade. 

Although I am not chained to that same bed,

The men still come in my head,

In my mind,

I am no longer one of a kind. 

Sung Myung(

The old one)

Has long since died.

The new one 

((The new Sung Myung)

Has only men come for her in her mind. 

She waits every day,

and hopes one will bring a change,

For her darling, Hye Ryoung,

The beautiful, young girl,

Who keeps her pushing on through it all.

She is the light,

The one source of brightness carrying me through to the end of the dark tunnel of life.

She brings me peace and sweetness.

She brings me innocence and joy.

One day,

I will tell my mother and older sister that they will no longer be slaves.
They will stay

In their chains

No more.

They will someday be free,

Through Heaven or through me.
Either way,

God and I will stay

Together through even the toughest days.

God and I will free them
 From that world. 

They will know no more fear.
They will be able to live the rest of their years



With me,

 In a good country. 

My daughter,

My girl,

Will never know that life.
She will never know the price

Of a chained soul,
Enclosed within a cloak of darkness, shade, brokenness, and shame.


Will never know what it is like To be a sex slave.




This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741