Strip me of my mocha colored skin
and my velvet coursed curly hair,
and tell me darling...what do you see?
Nothing, because you don't care
to know.You don't care to stitch those
wounds that girls like me are scared to show.
Every day my heart runs a bleeding river.
How long will the flashbacks of my homeless
nights make me shiver?
Strip me of my mocha colored skin and
my velvet coursed curly hair, and tell me
sweetie pie...what do you you see?!
My pain and my passion? My beauty
and fashion? Or perhaps you're just
too hell bent on what I'm lacking?
No one sees the tears once engraved
on my face, and nobody knows of me
hoping my heartbeat would lose pace.
Dallas,what do you see?
When I look in the mirror I have to
remind myself, that I am a memoir.
A contribution to this life time.
The mind is a temple and I choose
to proect it, and if I accept shallow
judgments, it would then be neglected.
People love to praise and criticize
the things that don't matter.
I do not wish to earn a fan, nor
do I seek dependency on a man.
See those are my accolades.
My pride. My heart. My spirit.
So tell me honey bun.. now that I'm bare,
what do you see? Psch! nevermind.
I see me.