deepundergroundpoetry.com
Listen The Fuck To Me!
I will stand before you, naked and unashamed.
To show you I come under no false pretenses.
I am confused by “Mankind”, “The Brotherhood”.
The beating of your chests,
Your Kunta Kinte, Mandingo mentality.
I hear you brother…
You say women are too independent.
We’ve usurped your position in the household.
I step back as a woman in the acceptance of submission.
I look to you as my Protector and my Provider.
I trust in your word when you say, “Baby, I got you.”
I trust that when you said it’s taken care of, it is done.
I trust that you take YOUR OWNERSHIP OF ALL THAT I AM…
SERIOUSLY.
For you see, I’m selective with my choices of caretakers.
I’m in pain because one too many times has a man,
Not only failed to protect his Queen, Me…
He’s the culprit of the crime.
And in a relationship, I AM THAT WOMAN
Who will say, “You hurt me, please fix it.”
I Won’t, Don’t, Will not run at the first sign of trouble…
I will wait. I will watch.
I don’t want to start the process over.
It is hard. It is exhausting.
I want THAT man I have established something with.
Again brother, YOU hurt your Queen, Me…
By disinheriting YOUR responsibility of your crime.
Not acknowledging that your actions or lack there of…
Directly affects me.
Your lies, half truths have the same effect as a hollow point bullet.
It draws blood. My blood.
You shrug your shoulders and tell me, your Queen…
The Innocent.
To either suck it up and deal with it or walk away.
You’ve created the woman who does NOT know how
To trust a man with her most SACRED possession…
Her Heart.
Who will step around YOU, brother, to handle business…
You call her Too Independent. Too Strong. Too Bitter.
I call her Too Hurt. Too Bruised. Too Defeated.
I CALL HER ME.
To show you I come under no false pretenses.
I am confused by “Mankind”, “The Brotherhood”.
The beating of your chests,
Your Kunta Kinte, Mandingo mentality.
I hear you brother…
You say women are too independent.
We’ve usurped your position in the household.
I step back as a woman in the acceptance of submission.
I look to you as my Protector and my Provider.
I trust in your word when you say, “Baby, I got you.”
I trust that when you said it’s taken care of, it is done.
I trust that you take YOUR OWNERSHIP OF ALL THAT I AM…
SERIOUSLY.
For you see, I’m selective with my choices of caretakers.
I’m in pain because one too many times has a man,
Not only failed to protect his Queen, Me…
He’s the culprit of the crime.
And in a relationship, I AM THAT WOMAN
Who will say, “You hurt me, please fix it.”
I Won’t, Don’t, Will not run at the first sign of trouble…
I will wait. I will watch.
I don’t want to start the process over.
It is hard. It is exhausting.
I want THAT man I have established something with.
Again brother, YOU hurt your Queen, Me…
By disinheriting YOUR responsibility of your crime.
Not acknowledging that your actions or lack there of…
Directly affects me.
Your lies, half truths have the same effect as a hollow point bullet.
It draws blood. My blood.
You shrug your shoulders and tell me, your Queen…
The Innocent.
To either suck it up and deal with it or walk away.
You’ve created the woman who does NOT know how
To trust a man with her most SACRED possession…
Her Heart.
Who will step around YOU, brother, to handle business…
You call her Too Independent. Too Strong. Too Bitter.
I call her Too Hurt. Too Bruised. Too Defeated.
I CALL HER ME.
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