Dystopian Poem (Objectification)

Women aren't property

Until they are.

Paraded down the street 

Beautiful and silent

Forced to produce

Without any question

Stroke the male ego

Protect their status as human 

While not ourselves



"Family oriented"


Sex Slaves obey 

Wives are for children.

Weapons strike the flesh

Hollow thuds echo through the corridor

Following the beat of the hearts 

All with the rebels 

Save us


So we scream


So are we beaten



Women are property 

Until they are alone

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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