I am seething regret
I am the walls of the terrace which you broke down

Filibuster my longwinded-ness
And break the backs because of your freedoms

I am seething regret
We call it freedom of the body
I call it ******, and **** it, I will not be silenced

I am sick and ******* tired of children dying
I am sick and tired of mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers crying.
We are so selfish, that we refuse life, because we believe our bodies have that right.

I am a man, yes, that is true.
I cannot speak from a woman's point of view.
But I guaran-*******-tee you
That my viewpoint would not change
If my genitals sank in rather than pushed out

I could spit tacks
And I could break backs
Watch me seethe and writhe

I don't want to hear your point of view,
I want to hear the sound of silence
Because no more children would be dying
For freedom

Remembering my **** smelling like saliva
(You caved)

Exploration, cave-diving
(And dealing with the liquid)

Moans, Groans, and don't-let-me-go-homes
(Grab at something)

Once, twice, three times priority
(And vulgarity strikes at the heel of the prim and proper)

Your face is one I'll remember
(Travel with me, and let's *** in different cities)