Woman

I'm raising babies all alone. Doing this thing, because Daddy's gone. Rubbing cocoa butter on my knees so the scars you can't see. They come from staying and praying and being all that I can be. Gone being absent or being absent because he's here. I wanna cry, I wanna cry, but it ain't no time for tears. Good guy, bad guy, I answer to both names. But I ain't got no picture in the Hall Of Fame. I'm washing clothes and making beds. Cooking food and braiding heads. Sweating all night after working all day. Being who I am, and giving him his way. Now I'm off to work on a few hours of sleep, but that's routine. I begged, fought, and worked for my title queen. Drug addict, Jesus fanatic, professional talker, street walker, your boss, high cost. His lover, their mother, all shades, custom made, homemade, self made. Deserves all her proper's for the price she has paid. She can't be killed because the memory lives on. Like straight black coffee, always strong. She, her, female, lady, let me describe this again. Lost is where this world would be without W-O-M-A-N.