Trafficked

Sold with no currency
an exchange in the darkness
of veils, nets, sheets
The veneer of love
is a hollow echo of
a binding promise.
The destination
where I am chained
by my need to provide
for those who depend on
my body to work for them.
The silent majority
who nod, their eyes condemn
what their minds deem ok.
I need. They provide.
An exchange, for their release
to which I am bound.