Her skin is the soil

Beautiful in her nature 

But becomes dirty once she gets on and into things that he does not want it to

When all she can be is her oneself

Oneself, her oneself she refuse to be anybody else except her oneself

Her thick curls rooted from the tree of our ancestors

Those locks that he locks his fingers into and pluck the roots from her soils

Her stretch marks the whipped lashes on our great grandmothers back 

Alongside the lashes across her face like churmed earths

Fresh soil fertile and exposed

Honey suckle tears

Flashing red and blue fears

He plants his contaminated seed into her fertile soil and now she bares bad fruit

Her hopes and dreams were a blossomed rose in a field of landmines

Carefully tiptoeing around

Careful not to disturb

Careful not to offend and once again be named dirty

When she is not dirty but the main source of life 

Even with the power to create it, she does not understand why she has no control over her own

One wrong step, one wrong change in motion and the whole thing will explode

Easily triggered

Just another nigga

Her flesh is the Bermuda Triangle, get close enough and you will get lost in her undiscovered ocean

He drowned and could not find his way home

Overflowed with obsession she was going to be his home rather she wanted to or not

Her words fluid like nectar trickling from between her lips

The taste of metalic on her tongue

She is paradise

She is Pandora and Pandoras Box

Out comes the bitch who is really just the boss

Out comes the ghetto when it is really just the seansoned culture

Out comes the gazelle and here comes the vulture

Like the predator he is stalking his prey

Dehumanizing his prey

Dregrading his prey 

Not going straight for the kill, first he wants to play

Her curves are bountiful hills to climb

Her scent soothing like lavender

So why is her nostrils filled with tar

Her smile bright and timeless

Her patience timed

She is peace

She is home

Her voice pours out passion like an overflowing cup 

Boisterous in all its beauty 

Like trumpets

Loud and unsilenced

So why should she be silenced