Existing, surviving
In the Cambodian child brothel
The unwanted orphan –
Her father, the customer
The Madame, her mother.
What do they eat?
If they eat at all.
What do they learn?
Do they have school?
Amusing themselves
Day by day,
They are too young to know
Any other way.
In a rundown building
A camera rolls
Capturing the sport
With these innocent souls.
A tourist is with them
A middle aged man,
A nobody back home
A lord in this land.
The children are sitting
Around on the floor
Exploited by low life
Neglected by law.
They are eager to please
They do as they’re told
The brothel is their family
Neither hot nor cold.
You think you can save them
To take them away
For what will it cost you
A few pounds a day.
But some will grow up there
And who will care
When they’re too old to live here
And they carry on – out there.
Addicted to pornography
Addicted to pornography
Love it
Hate it
Sneak into the room
Sneak out again
Pornography
Kept in the attic
Under the floorboards
Or in the garage
Now
Like medicine
On the internet;
Now like a cure all
From a medicine show
On a website
In the electric light
Switch on
switch off
