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They Called Her Cherry
May 27, 2021
The red suede swaddles her exposed toes,
Ankles braced into a stiff position,
These shoes represent much more than a fashion statement.
Each step is followed by unanimous clicks against the cold cement,
Every step serves a purpose.
It wasn’t until a beater car pulled to the edge of the curb,
Until she was with three grown men,
Until she was on an mattress as old as her,
That she realized she had taken her last walk.
© Wystria C., Pittsville, Wisconsin
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This poem represents not the story of one underaged girl, but the story of many. As a victim of sex trafficking, I want to bring a voice, and awareness to the countless of other young girls who are still walking the curb. I want people to know the dangers of the streets.