Women are supposed to give birth
Therein lies their worth
Expanding the human race
Leaving a piece of me
Forever multiplied in someone else
Infinity in the soft soil of a womb
22 years old
Sentenced to life
Sentenced to be barren
My body a dry desert
Oh, child of my womb
I sometimes swear I feel your heartbeat
Your restless soul move
I see you in my dreams
A little girl
Ribbons the colors of cotton candy.
My baby girl
Trapped within me forever
Serving life in the prison of my womb.
I even named you
My awakening to womanhood
But I am just a girl
Never a woman
If I can’t let you out.
The emptiness taunts me
Like a bully on a playground
“You’ll never be truly feminine!”
Half a woman
An unfinished piece of art.
Begging the sculptor to complete me.
You locked up my body, but you’ll never own me.
You gave me a number so you could count me every day, while you do everything to remind me that I no longer count.
While you were caging me in and tightening the locks, my mind struggled free. My spirit soared past the fences and wall, and left you behind.
My body remains locked up, but you will never have my soul.
I am free because I will not let you confine my mind.
While you were walling me in, I was walling you out.
Your man-made fortress is no match for the one I constructed around my heart, mind, and soul.
All your attempts to break in, damage me, demean me, derail me, and defeat me are futile. I decided long ago to never grant you entry.
Like mad scientists in a lonely lab, you concoct potions to bring about my demise.
Your mistake is that you never counted on the resiliency of my spirit.
I turned your hate into love, and emptied my pain into a river of good.
While you plotted to kill me, I planned to live.
The struggle rages on; I can never rest.
You are a relentless enemy, lurking and stalking, but I am a fierce warrior.
You may have my body, but you will never own my soul.