He Pimped Me poem 2 of 5

He Pimped Me

He pimped me out,
Like I was a thing,
A body for money,
With nothing within.

He counted the notes,
While I counted tears,
He bought his pleasures
With all of my fears.

Each stranger arrived,
And something in me
Went somewhere distant,
Where I could not see.

I left my body,
I hid in my head,
Pretending my spirit
Was somewhere else instead.

He called it business,
I called it hell,
But nobody listened
To stories I’d tell.

My name became nothing,
My voice became small,
He owned every doorway,
Every window and wall.

I watched morning arriving,
Pale through the blind,
And wondered if freedom
Would ever be mine.

Then one day I carried
My fear to the train,
With one little suitcase
And years full of pain.

He pimped my body,
But never my soul,
Some broken things suffer,
Yet somehow stay whole.