>children turning trans
>child-brides
In darkness deep where whispers weave,
Bolsheviks with hearts deceiving,
A money-printer spun with dreams of gold,
To buy the secrets, maintain an illusion, tales untold.
With ink and paper, power's thread,
They stitched a world where truth lay dead,
Their secret society purchased and well fed,
Nepotism’s grip took the natural course,
The ultimate ploy after so many decoys.
Motherhood and Maternity were monopolized,
While girls were groomed for pleasure, exploited and prized,
Used for profit, in a cruel design,
To abort and feed a flesh industry line.
The boys, too, caught in the tragic web,
Used for sperm, for war, their lives ebb,
For pleasure and profit, they played their part,
Some turned trans, lost in ritual art.
Gratification twisted with humiliation’s claim,
In echo chambers, they stoked the flame,
Yet in the depths, a spark remains,
To shatter the chains, to break the veins.
For in our hearts, the fight is pure—
To claim the future, to love, endure.
It is only rare to the lower/middle caste americans while the tourists party all day & night