The Womb

You shall not have my womb

The root of all life, or the end,

If I so choose

You shall not use my womb

This is not where your violence

Shall ever have a home

You shall not have my womb

I'd rather cut it out myself

Than yield to you

You shall not use my womb

To plant seeds of suffering

The foul smell is sickening

You shall not have my womb

Assemble it on the Birthing Line

And call it labor of love

You shall not use my womb

I am not your tool

I am not your tool

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Inspired by a story I have not yet written, The Womb is a cry for help from a woman who has been forced to become a Birthing Vessel. In a world where unmarried women over the age of 30 are assembled on Birthing Lines, a shattered soul vows to take back what was always hers.

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