Forced Labor Pains

Birthing Tyranny in the Land of the Free

Artist unknown

Trigger warning for sexual assault

Only a senator staring out his window

Would look down on women

And see their bodies as pawns

Laid out on checkered streets

He'd have us believe this is about

Her presentation, not his policies

Her body, not his bigotry

Her status as "thing"

Not his objectification of her

Her figure reduced to inanimate so

He can take her from the shelf

Blow the dust off a little sometimes

Treasured as no more than a trophy

He mourns the unborn

Before he grieves her death

He'll call it

Flatlining on white sheets

An unfortunate casualty

Bleeding out on the streets

As if his hands didn't pull the plug

As if his unprotected dick wasn't forced inside

As if his fear of how she'll wield her power

Wasn't why he disarmed her

Where can she flee in the land of the free

To escape his tyranny?

Where can she outrun him

To pursue her own life, liberty, and happiness?

What would it take for a senator

To value a woman's life as much as his own?

He knows no pain until her wrath rains down

Until the heavens flinch under her karmic fury

And dark clouds crowd over Capitol Hill

Until she rallies and storms the halls as legion

But today he sits at his desk

Plots his next movements

Puts his signature on

A fresh stack of relentless legislation

Sealing her fate

Lady Liberty weeps

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