My back hurts.
Hands are restless.
Watching the people with their dead eyes.
White picket fences.
Pigs waiting to be slaughtered.
Programmed by greed and ignorance.
When will you see?
We are bombing children!
Billionaire men are fucking them!
The water is poisoned.
The air is thick.
Stop driving.
Stop working.
Just STOP.
I’m made to sit quiet.
And bleed,
And suffer,
Hambre de alma.
The tortured soul.
Broken by those who were meant to love me.
Tossed like garbage.
Only feeling the pain of my sisters and the fear of the children.
I wish to gather them all up.
Take them to a land where the male gaze doesn’t exist.
No wandering eyes.
Disgusting mouths.
Evil thoughts.
Just us and the babies.
Could you imagine?
I can.