Written by: Wilindean Inniss

Must I be another temporary
A transitory.
Lasting for a short period of time,
Because you think I have the mind,
Of a child.
Am I so much of a tragedy
Not worth being in your presents 
Or company.
How dear you have the audacity
To judge my authorities.
Don’t underestimate me,
When you haven’t the slightest idea
Who I’m suppose to be.
Is it because I’m not corrupt
I don’t act like a slut
You don’t like me much.
Just another doormat.
Habitual object of abuse
No good use.
I’m always for “rent”….
Never permanent!