Boys with their wooden swords and rounded bellies With mud streaked across their cheeks With the turbulence they conceive Their wrestling and writhing As their mothers scrub the blood and sweat and grass of their clothes, they walk into the forest with wooden crowns and raised chins Boys determined to incept turmoil Even in birth, the sweat wiped from their mothers brow as they bear down, they pound against their mothers womb demanding their retribution for being locked