My Generation Sister
MY GENERATION SISTER
love isn't a blessing,its a damn halacus
I could tell right by the look on her eyes.
She has grown round ,her hind body shakes
Her voice calls, and no man stays gentle
Her chest is heavy, and punks praise of it - Silly punks...
My sister makes up,
She polishes her skin with chemicals,
her face sparkles it reminds me of the new moon
Unlike her knees a pour definition of the African Colour
With her polyester headbraids she erodes off all wisdom of
these big shorts whose bellies extend like the nile every time they kiss
she's hevean sent to them- and these other punks
She paints her lips, and claims it of the Modern girl
I don't hate my sister But she's a new Covid
Which kills the human plasma.She wakes up at noon
And disappears to the days retirement,
Then back in the heart of the night,
With a pile of smiles as if heaven just made her heir-
My sister has forgotten our ways;
My sister greets no more,
And never kneels, she says it causes 'kneelionosis'
Which kills the human Chromosomes...
I don't want to hate my sister but her morals and body are the damn halcus
Yet I worry for the men who love her,
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