by Rekha Raman

Created on: July 09, 2010

 Vending Sex Machine

She stands trembling, frightened and cold,

The heater raises goose bumps in her soul,

Standing near naked, in front of men that lust,

Her age of eight heightens their pleasure pods,

She helplessly becomes a vending sex machine.

Auctioned to the highest bidding scoundrels,

Sex-slavery is a sordid, saddening sorrow,

A deprived childhood feels the quake of fear,

Her boundary penetrated by a male domain,

She helplessly becomes a vending sex machine.

Her mind gets bumped and ground with time,

Her smile loses its quality of childlike virginity,

Laughter becomes slimy, raucous and tarnished,

She becomes a chilled tool of this heinous crime,

A powerless, enslaved vending sex machine.

As children become victims of sex slavery,

The heavens rain tears to dilute their misery,

Tender skin of boys and girls wrinkle early,

Their orifices of hope are rent in pleasure,

As agony bleeds from a vending sex machine.

Diseases that proliferate: avenge and scourge,

Madams and pimps engorged in mindless terror,

More shameless their greed, greater are their sins,

Fate’s heave of frustration sweltering in rage,

Her children enmeshed in a vending sex machine.

While microbes of syphilis and AIDs, fester and gall,

The children of God cannot mitigate their pain,

Unless this bleeding sin is clotted by man alone,

The ghettos of rot await these exploiters of sex,

Who use children as their vending sex machine.

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