It’s been on my mind,
spinning it’s devilish tale again.
he never understands,
to him it’s simply black and white,
to me, simply too black and white.
it fuels his hatred in the races,
fuels his separatism from me.
exhausting to spin the web of the tale
which pains to the cell,
when all he sees is ego,
and never sees my blackness.
never in mind,
he walks as a man
sure steps, no fucking way they’d fuck with him.
women are more vulnerable,
men are cowards.
women are the cattle of the masses,
slayed down by the leadings of libido.
slayed down by the leadings of hatred.
it never really was a battle between sexes
until the first maid got ripped open.
never a meeting of the minds,
till men raped the thoughts out of us.
i’ll let them push the war,
but my leading part is over.
i’m through being moldable,
through being someone’s cheap toy.
but i’ll never be through feeling my face split open,
or feel my skin split for his use.
or sense that breath or hands
trying to make me a whore.
I’ll never know innocence,
i’ll never know the bliss of never knowing.
and he’ll never know the violation of soul.