jacqueline amos

I Am Old Enough To Dye
2002-11-19 01:16:24 (UTC)

The Anthology Of Woman

The Anthology of Woman.
Is it that my hips are round?
my breast lustrous and my
body is built like an hour
glass skipping no curves, as he
uses me as his play toy,
and move on to another when he
gets tired destructive to thy mind,
castrating me of all my dreams.

My lips that shines of guck
and face painted with designers muck.
Is it my thighs that’s lean?
and my hair that shines, and
the count of the strokes, when he enters
my universe. Is it that I don’t have a mind?
and my body is his play ground; Do
I have a mind? are must I
pretend I think with my hips.
If I am plump and round
without the crown, and the curves
forms its on traits.


Am I less than a women without
the curves? do I bring him
joy, love him with my heart,
dose it make me less than a
women if I am not a show peace?
Shall I buy his love? and step
aside, and allow him to use
me as his door mat.
Must I play the fool and
loose my cool?, and bring him
laughter as he use me as a fool.


If I love my God, wear my
dresses above my knees? dose it
make me a reject of the world.
If I bare his children, and
keep his home clean, and love
only him, without breaking
the rules, am I an idiot and
fool for my man?
Shall I be the whore
and slut when he angers with stress?
shall I be the punching bag,
when the world makes him mad,
shall I hold on to an illusion
that the changing of the
season, he will be the husband
I most desired in this life.
Shall I be the man and the women?
and raise his children,
making an excuse for a boy
which is less than a man, as he
walks away,dropping babies
within every women that
comes his way, must I smile?
and say he’s a great man.


Am I women worthy more than
what his justice stand.
Shall I make excuses the
world dealt him a bad hand? Must
I turned my head for the
like of father which he stands?
Must I blame the world?
for the like of him being a man? Shall
I
sale my soul just to say
I have a boy?, a man is to
delicate to express the
horrors of a imitations of a man.
Shall I become desperate
for love? and turn my back on
those who shows love,
for a ride in the hay,
to be sicken
with great disease, shall
I forget about the dignity that
is honored by God?
Shall I flash my body for the world to
see? and call it freedom
of expression, when I step into
the circles of lust,
desperate to be love, shall I teach
my daughter that her body is sacred?
shall I allow her to see
me act like a dog in heat.
Shall I break all the laws of
God? to please a man who has
no honor to me are self.

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