Broken

She is broken in a place the world will never see

You can hardly notice that she walks a bit differently

 Zipped slits and buttoned lips fabricate a smooth silhouette

When her life is as torn as triggered land mines

I bet she never imagined she’d be used for Psychological Warfare

Cuz Vaginas are no place for war tactics

And since when did battlegrounds become synonymous with mattresses

I guess her womb was an enemy combatant

Because that’s where they pointed their guns

M16’s ripping the hymen of a girl age16

Her labia’s laden with defending corrupt regimes

As Death Angels enter her Ankh with assassination between the callouses of their hands

We marvel the president-veterans and elect them to the highest office of this country

And ignore the woman of foreign countries whose genitals have been mutilated by boys manipulated into machines of men called soldier

Where masculinity is a thing to be proven, a woman’s pride a thing to be stolen and placed on chains next to the space dog tags hang

Penetration proves your ID valid

Your pallid must thirst to ravage the matron antagonist

Her screams are the reward for Conquering

Trade her innocence for some semblance of democracy

Either way she’s fucked

You’ve stolen the wealth of her womb and the resources of the mother continent

She lays barren on pillaged surface swindled of its worth

They ruined her life as a regiment because that’s what boot camp taught them

Camaraderie in every cataclysmic entry

But soldier, her posterior isn’t as rough as gun butts

Her lilly didn’t asked to be fisted or broomed deep

She can never sweep these memories under the rug or from the forefront of her mind

Like Tribunals do….

Redefine your war crimes! She was not concubine nor collateral, but a targeted victims who hurts worse than dead assailants

Cuz she walks around with mortality hanging from their cervix

Bereavement scars along her breast

Yet she lived out an unachieved death sentence

A genocide with no body toll except the children never to be born...

Who consoles the woman whose clitoris is now in a trophy case

I wonder how many purple hearts are covered with the blood of broken hearts

Woman, the unidentified casualties of war, forced to walk around in their brokenness as soldiers take parts of them for keepsakes

How do you run refugee; when the occupied territory is your body?

Bruised in the name of military expansion and egos

War stories cryptic like codes

Or stories Don’t ask and nobody knows

But she is broken in a place where the world will never see

Because patriarchy dominates femininity.