We shouldn’t born children into worlds that form like clams,
We shouldn’t train these children to lose their wombs,
to Men who train them to be soldiers,
in homes more like Prisons,
where Pearls don’t form out of pressure and pain,
instead black thorns are found in bitter places,
with sticks and stones and bitter bones,
Mothers who’s own bodies decide to collapse on them,
So they speak to their daughters with sharp tongues,
To share bleach within mouths,
to wash out their own sins and suffering,
To bring to shore their own loss and give to their daughters as gifts,