They say

If I cross my legs hard enough,

will they not peek inwards?

They say the president has crept between the locked doors

of many different girls chambers.

If I hold my breath long enough,

will they not see the hatred linger?

They say the president has watched your comments,

and could send you away with but his finger.

If I, someday, make the choice they so hate,

will they not protest my decision?

They say the president has made a rule,

our bodies choice is not up to women.

If I stand tall and hold another girls hand,

will they not send tremors from above?

They say the president,

won't let you love.


There's a rumor

in the streets

that the pain we face 

was all done by a cheat.

There's a fear 

in our bones

that someday you could

not know your home.

There's a sadness 

in my heart

that they could find it necessary

for any, all of this, to start.

There's a precedent of democracy,

that they ignore, and don't address

and in the end--

could we clean up this mess?



"Land of the free, home of the brave,"

for who, where, when?


When the song comes to end,

will we be able

to promise that, to begin


This poem is about: 
Our world



well, that's that

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