Creative Writing Poetry

Slavery was a word ago,
But in no way it’s the naked truth.

I am being played by the first fiddle,
And is unhesitatingly captured for sex.

I am employed as a robot,
Insomuch as beggaring any emotions.

I am the slave of these scamp pigs,
And they are the captives of lust and sex.

The paradox is, me being a human is objectified,
And the objects aren’t used but are being adored.

Purely visualize the hell,
That the male chauvinists had propelled me into.

The heaven I urge for is wholly for the humans,
Who amour with me and not feed up on me as hungry pigs.

The Universal Life Force gifted me this life,
But when was it pronounced to be auctioned?

This life is mine treasure trove,
And this reserve can never by any means be afforded.

If sex slavery is not weeded out,
Then there is no relevance in propagandizing women empowerment.

Slavery still exists,
Nevertheless only for ones who have a body to satisfy.

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