Abortion Ban Barbie

I am trapped inside the Barbie box of womanhood.

I am one of billions of bodies,

manufactured and molded in the

united state of assembly lines,

another plastic product of procreational hypocrisy,

systemic suppression, clinical aggression, unqualified concessions.

The primitive inhumanity and authorized brutality means more and more boxes, and bodies, are stacked on top of me, case closed, top shelf - and no one is looking up.

I lose faith. Has faith lost me? F*ck faith.

“Faith” has become an obstruction of my justice,

manipulating my autonomy, negligent of my circumstances,

and sacrificing my agency to advance its agenda.

Faith has invaded my human dignity.

It has manipulated my mind to displace me from my body.

It has made me believe it is worthy, yet does not believe in my worth.

Is the potential of what I can create truly more valuable than I?

Faith told me it wants to protect life, yet it does not mean mine.

Now, I’m trapped in this tightly closed container, with no salvation in sight. Labor laws have been decreed. My body is employed in prohibition, a rigid restriction, ungodly conditions, as faith barbarically grasps at my ankles, forsaking me, as my body is occupied by forces other than me. Open, close, open, close.

My body is finished. Sensations terminated. The ultrasounds reverberate in my echo chamber, and finally, I understand. I am nothing but an object, a toy, a hot commodity, an advertising tool in the devout marketplace of money, power, and politics, slapped, tickled, branded, teased, painted pink, white, and blue.

Life, liberty and the pursuit of my body. I am your savior and your sin, your game and your gospel, perfectly shaped to fulfill your faithful fantasy, ken, ken, yes, yes, whatever you say mister master. I exist to serve you, and your fixed yet broken belief system.

I am here to entertain you, dazzle you with my soft bare skin, nothing but a body, programmed, tuned, shaped to your commands, an automated domesticated creation, a mama-machine to pump out more heartbeats for our nation. I am nothing but a doll with a body with a heart that used to beat free, but today, I am beaten, shackled - at your feet, Sir.

Every body is a box.

Every box is a cage.

Every woman wanted, dead and alive.

Created to create. Forget choice, incest or rape.

Miss handle with care.

And the ones in power don’t miss a beat.

Immaculate in their conception,

A perfected and holy digression,

The unoriginal sin.

Forgive them for they know just what they do.

Faithful Blasphemy.

Against my divine body.

Cardiac arrest in my chest.

Pro life but not mine.

As if my heartbeat is unworthy of being heard

I’m pro life too.

My life.

That’s the Word.