Postmodern Scooter
They watch, they see, not telling thee of their eyes everywhere
In your house, your bed, following you anywhere
on scooters woven in faux green, yelling tell you look
large and seated, tracking you, looking for what you took
RUN RUN, for they cannot, they paint themselves in dance
wash away wash away Jiya and all, who hurt them every chance!
Why do you tell me my stomach to swell
For I dance far more well
I am Whitney I can shine
Till I meet with my cursed divine!
Twirl, leap, shake, hop!
Yet Jiya can hardly make a bop
For I move mountains and rivers and seas
While others move at her every step for she bears smaller than me
Injustice! Terror! All and All! Taken in my name
I have been committed injustices grave
For I am Whitney, big, fat, fabulous and free!
For all I am ,scooter to hat,you must accept me.
Copyright © Whitney Thore | Year Posted 2017
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