How does it feel?
To be a girl,
And to bleed,
Whenever we create

Something beautiful.

The dunce cap
Fills the void;
Where the crown should be.

Life grew
And fed, from these *******
Now ripped apart,
Pieces of shame.

Judas’s Cradle,
Destroyed our flesh.
Left us humiliated,
Like Lady Godiva

Hours of ******
From impalement
In spite of Eve
Whom bit the apple.

Hot irons,
Through vitality’s tunnel
To fallow the holy book,
The Malleus Maleficarum.

Confession induced stoning
Drowning, burning
Just to be whipped like animals
For social bonding.

The battles of power
With the entertainment of ****,
Still two Hundred years of
Forced sterilization.




A pear of anguish,
For the miscarriages
A coffin,
For the son.

Who can be civil?
When survival
Even today,
Is about exploitation.

A dowry for obstetric fistula,
In Pakistan.
Under the union of god’s will,
Of course.

The ****** test
Out lives the Bison,
Only still being bred
For the hunt

Mutilation for those,
In Southern Sahara.
Huge abscesses,
To cover the curse.

The breaking wheel