The first time was not someone I chose, what should be as bright as the sun, came and brought the coldness, the cutting pain of time slipping away from me. A wounded child, wearing the darkness. I was a girl. In me there will always be the girl who suffers, who does not forget. Let the girl be a child, do not crush that phase, do not touch without permission, do not allow it. Let the girl always have hope, without traumas of childhood, with colors of love, with her lullabies, her child like dances. Let me be a child, without having to look in the mirror and be forced to see the image of grown up. Let the girl be the future of the nation, without carrying the weight of exploitation. Let's hold hands, let's open our eyes to this crime, we will not accept the guilty looks of people who only blame and repress.” -Poem about Edna Freeman teen years. Follow her on Instagram click here