MY SALARY ISN'T PRETTY
My salary isn't pretty
My choice, a tuk-tuk, not a Rolls-Royce
Neither extended eyelashes nor done nails
A God-made light skin, short natural braids
My salary isn't pretty
When I am riding on the top
I'm always prepared when asked to stop
No moaning, I'll be gentle and go slower
Only go harder when asked to go faster
My salary isn't pretty
"What do you think," "I think it's a good idea,"
Are my only masculine words
"You're right", "I was wrong", "I'm sorry"
Are my only warring swords.
My salary isn’t pretty
I speak only when spoken to
Hands always busy
Filling the quiet spaces with chores
Even when no one’s asked.
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