My Body, Your Choice

My body holds but flesh and bones for you:

My body has fat in all the right spots for you to hold and holler at.

My legs could be crumbling and I would still be an object to you.

My body was told that it had a choice,

 Yet every time I feel eyes on me,

 fear runs down my skin.

My body lost all hope when it bled out uncontrollably;

Letting Mother Nature turn her back on her children.

My body isn’t mine because I was born with a uterus, fragile and careless, instead of being Blessed with having a dick, hard and stern.

(pause and like heavy breathing (note for myself)

Red hands cover every inch of my body:

Taking control of my movements,

Taking my breath from my veins and lungs,

Taking away each of my rights as if ripping a strand of hair one by one.

With a deep red seeping out of my skin,

I hold myself close with no support but a tube down my throat,

Keeping my throat from closing and my body from breaking.

My body should be in shambles, 

With each shiver it should be gone,

But I was left intact, 

Left alive so I could be used again and again,

No limbs broken,

 But I feel the aching aftermath of every attempt,

Letting phantom hands graze over me swiftly.

My body is a choice to indulge or destroy,

But you choose both at the end.