by M.E. Peters
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I hope when you look up at me
you see more than surviving.
I hope you can smell gunpowder
on my torn open flesh-
see the wounds dripping from me
and know how hard I fought
to be your mother.
I pray you will fight, too,
because you are worth the war.
Worth should not have to claw
out of your bodies and make itself known.
Worth should live in the pit of your bellies,
festering and felt by you always.
You are not here for one reason;
you are here for a million.
Fight tooth and nail for these if you need to.
Do not survive this world, my daughters;