Poetry

I March On

Trigger Warning: This is a poem about rape, miscarriage, abortion, and the children after the events – things that have happened to me. I’ve been told I was sterile. I have been pregnant five times. I have three miracle “rainbow” children with special needs that I fight for every day. I decided to put the warning here because these are obvious topics to me that not everyone can handle well.

Push me down, push me down, push me around on the ground.
My body doesn’t belong to me?
Push me down, push me down, push me around on the gurney.
Why are choices robbed from me?
One child lost, one child taken,
three rainbow children alive now stand.

Blood, so much blood, as the wheels of time turn while I march on.

Who the fuck are you to challenge my words?
Who the fuck are you to point the finger at me?
Who the fuck are you to silence me?
Who the fuck are you to blame me?
I know what it is I’ve seen and heard.
And it’s me that carries the bruise and infection.
Who the fuck asks for this shit?
Not me, not you, so shove your pitchfork someplace else.

Blood, so much blood, as the wheels of time turn while I march on.

I bring them in, their little hands I’m holding dear,
and they blame me when it’s buried deep in my DNA.
Well thanks but no thanks, and fuck you by the way.
These are my babies who weren’t supposed to be
but they’re here now and you’ll never steal them from me.
You will hear me now because I’m fighting this one forever.

Blood, so much blood, as the wheels of time turn while I march on.


Poetry format used: The Bop

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