A row of stern, suited men stand in a room
Not just any room
The Oval Office
Around one seated
Leader of the Free World,
Puts his pen to paper,
Chaining up bodies across the world.
Knocking on death’s door,
To let phantom lives in,
Exponentially decreasing in value the moment they take their first breath.
If he would just listen,
If any of them
Nation to nation
Would just listen
To the stories of those
Who have known
Who have seen
Who have felt
The devastation of regulation.
The trapped go to desperate measures for freedom,
Taking matters into their own trembling hands.
You shame us for our natural blood while setting us up to bleed.
Shame on you.
Mr. Not My President,
Who vows to
Make America Safe Again;
Make America Great Again.
Who vows to
Put America First
Your words are hollow when
Black women are dying at two times the rate of white women to cervical cancer
A cancer so preventable
With access to screening
And a vaccine.
With scowl and furrowed brow,
You deliver a clear message to women worldwide:
A Global Gag.
Our health choked by your power,
Masked as morality.
Do you know what you’ve done?
Do you know what you will do?
Make up an
You may not know it but you know someone who’s had an abortion,
And they say:
The same men that talk about bitches they’ve preyed upon
And big tits
And stolen kisses
Because a woman in control of her own body is dangerous.
These men back us into corners,
But they’ll never be in Our Corner.
My mother was the product of a dictator’s laws
To populate his country by force.
The Political becomes Personal
And don’t get me wrong,
I’m happy to be here
And I made it.
But if my grandmother had succeeded in her attempt for freedom,
I would not blame her.
I do not shame her.
These men will never be in Our Corner,
But Our Corner is growing by the minute.
Soon Our Corner will engulf the whole room,
Spilling into the hallways and the streets,
And they’ll be the ones feeling trapped.