Dystopian Poem (Objectification)
Women aren't property
Until they are.
Paraded down the street
Beautiful and silent
Forced to produce
Without any question
Stroke the male ego
Protect their status as human
While not ourselves
"Sexy"
"Willing"
"Family oriented"
"Sold"
Sex Slaves obey
Wives are for children.
Weapons strike the flesh
Hollow thuds echo through the corridor
Following the beat of the hearts
All with the rebels
Save us
PLEASE
So we scream
Deviant
So are we beaten
Destroyed
Replaced
Women are property
Until they are alone
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Dmcculley
You are one in a million. That means there are 320 of you in the U.S. Find yourself. Create an army. Overthrow the government of a small midwestern town. Hi... I am a spoken word poet and that is the format the majority of my work will be. Some of these are work from the heart and some I did for school. I am a actor, a horseback rider, a sister, a member of the LGBT+ community, and an extreme introvert. I love kids, Netflix, video games, my pets, and I suck at every language I try other than Latin. (weird I know) I'm a Pisces on the Aires cusp. I act a whole lot like it too.
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