Caught in the cage of lust where breathing becomes a task, weeps an angel with a broken heart.
A heart more broken than her dreams, beats inside her to keep her strong. Empowerment is a distant thought, survival is her task.
Thousands of lives, millions of dreams are crushed behind the doors in the land of the evil, you call brothels.
In the 21st century, 72 years post our independence, there are women locked up in boxes, ready to be sold at unbelievable prizes. These are the women who suffer slavery each day, women who are served before beasts each day. They are eaten each day, they die each day. Each day, the sun rises to darken their lives.
72 years post our Independence, are these living corpses, sold to the pleasure of demons who still exist.
Not just demons dressed as men, but pity on their circumstances, that lead them to sell their soul, selling their love to other men.
To earn bread, there are angels being stripped and thrown into the darkness of the nightlife.
To her, the creator is a sinner and her creation, a sin.
Pondering about the darkness behind the door, I wonder, Do Angels fly?
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