a child prostitute

How is that even a thing,

I wonder.

As I watch them come and go.

I see their ‘baby on board’ stickers

In their rear windows.

And who do they pick up?

You look no more than eleven.

Are you eleven,

or younger?

I feel disgust for those leeches.

Those scum infested bastards.

But you leave with them,

And return in 10 minutes.

How is it that you have to be here?

Why do you go with them?

Yes I know the answer.

But all the answer does not lie with you.

They said on the News;

“What should we be doing about the child prostitution issue”.

It’s an issue?

No,

it’s a fucking abomination!

A shame on this nation!

A child,

a prostitute.

Your ‘clients’ are rapist pigs.

They are not clients.

Your job is not a job.

It isn’t a well thought out career pathway.

It’s cunty pedos cashing in on your silence.

Your need.

Your vulnerability.

I hate them for you!!

I told you so,

When you wouldn’t come with me.

I told you so,

As you huffed your poison and rolled your little eyes.

I told you I would hate them for you,

And I do!

I’ll fix it if it takes me forever

I’ll fix it.

So you can braid your hair

And get your nails did

So you can eat your lunch at school

And you can sleep between Dora Explorer sheets.

I’ll fix it

I’ll keep hating them

Until I fix it.

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kpm ©

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