Of Daughters and Aborted Liberties

Of Daughters and Aborted Liberties… My ravished womb drips precious blood of incestuous rape; the ghosts of my daughters scream from shared graves marked with vaginal blood shed by sons drunk on the wine of intoxicating power. Mislead adolescent warriors fan holocaust embers scorching time tested hopes gone to ashes as death winds strike chimes of ebony genocide; and the cradle and the grave stand juxtaposed to each other. My desperate screams reverberate off once listening ears and ricochet into the void silence of a newsworthy footnote: caught in the cobwebs of history my aborted blood of liberty flows like the meandering Nile.