Rebecca Mott

Torture is something I don’t want to know.

Torture was my norm for too many years, but I close it down, send it away.

I think if I shut my eyes tight enough, then I was mentally, sexually and physically made into trash.

I squeeze my eyes so hard – there is a pain and all I see is red turning into black.

With eyes closed, my veins remember all that was to be tortured.

I want to run away, I want to stay silent, I want not to know my own reality.

Only I cannot as the blood in my veins is on fire.

I know to keep a handle of my mental and physical welfare, I must enter my tortured soul.

I will pause first to say why I do this in public.

I do this because I am just a tiny example of how all the prostituted…

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