Modern American Woman

I am apparently an incubator

No rights

No feelings just a ventilator

Full of breast milk, nipples for the bite

Legs strong from added weight

Hoarse from screaming into the lamplight.

A political tool

Voice dismissed

Having to pay for preschool

My face just for pleasure

My breasts a treasure.

But wait I thought I was an incubator?

Being both sexual desire and political tool

Men believing that they are my curator

Always coming across a fool

Oh, that’s right, I have no rights

So that way I can be both delights.

I am an incubator, apparently

I have no rights over my own body

Ignorance controlling me ardently

No voice for change

My vagina strange.

When will my voice and body be my own? 

To do what I want

Not undermined by testosterone

To be a learned savant

Whether that means mother or not

A woman in charge of her own plot.

I am not an incubator

But a human being.