Try Being One

You call yourself a lady.

Profess like nobody’s business

That you deserve nothing less

Than a gentleman.

And yet
It seems as though

The ones you get to know

Can’t get the hint.

The only guys you end up with

Are on the bottom end

You are fed up with the fact

That

No one can see how much of a “lady”

You claim to be on the daily.

That all they care about is sex

And they could care less

To see whats above the bedspread.

Easily,

He must be blind

Right?

And its infuriating,

But I understand.

I understand that

Your lividity

Stems from the way

He fails to recognize

The worth beyond your thighs

But honey,

He is not fucking you for your mind.

And its

The most you could ask for

When shorts play peek-a-boo

With your backside

You

Blind-side his will from wanting to know

What lies on the other side

With the fact that your

Self worth that only runs

Thigh high

I’m sure you didn’t allow

His respect of you

To be based on

By how far your legs spread so

Yea

Maybe he’s the issue…

It’s

His fault

that you wear your

Shirts low

And your

Skirts high

And then he

Has the nerve to

Tell you that you could never be

His wife.
What?
He must be out of his mind!

After all, you are a lady.

So much in fact that you

Take the club with you

From work and school

Just to watch ‘em gravel and drool

Only to feel dogged out and

Misused.

I’m not saying that guys should use

The way we dress as an excuse

But ladies,

We have to part take in some

Of the blame too

That is

If you really call yourself a lady