a succession

Empires fragment

The provinces

Become empires.

Divorce occurs,

New unions are possible.

When you are conceived of rape

They are willing to abort you.

Sadly,

Some of us are already born.

So abortion isn’t about murder

It’s about them washing their hands of us.

Allowing us to become corpse.

A corpse gasping for air

Begging for the love

That he maybe deserved at some point.

Because he refuses to accept the reality

That only what their words

Could not drown out is real.

So now he victimizes

Hurting those who need him

Just to hear the screaming

Which cannot be drowned out.

He has his fists clenched

Knowing he will fragment.

Hoping they will inherit

Something more

Than union and divorce.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please critique this poem.

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