Panties dropped like her self esteem
Panties dropped like dew drops, like dues drop. Make like your tithes and offerings and pay your dues ma.
Loving yourself was never easy. Neither was standing on scrapped knees. Little girl, please stand still. Stand while hoping you and him would become equal because he told you orally was the only way he can cum… Munication was never the key.
I mean, while you were giving head I was getting head, seemed to get head, so I got a head to give head. So lets be even. And multiply that by two back bone breaker bust butts booming beats that bounce all on your lap.
She regurgitated his melodies. He said he can make her beautiful, but there’s nothing beautiful about forcing more than tampons in places that your mother wouldn’t approve of. Bleeding insecurities wrapped in sperm coated love cells, so maybe then she could love herself.
I keep tripping on your name Richard. Dick. I guess I know what a kid taste like because I swallowed and made ottoman vowels that format an image of what laying in my bed felt like. Latex flavored convos made for Starbucks hours and free wifi scifi. Lets make a movie that we don’t want to believe, what our mothers don’t want to see, and what our father’s karma is seeded.
How condom coated lip gloss filled your mouth with beauty. As if his flow made you speak beauty, when loving yourself was all God asked you to do.
Do what you are suppose to do; in regards to the fact you love lust last lust lisp list every silly sitting position. Bending to two six nine redirected 54 squared averaged Karmasutra designed offenses. Or was my math off by 12 added 96, backward sin city spinning the desires of my heart.
But you can’t caress your own heart. So you made him caress your sexual parts. “He loves you”… but what he meant is he wanted to f@#k you.
We slip surf sip surf shape back buck f&#ked until eggs met harmonious with potential nine months too early.
Panties dropped like dew drops, like dues drop. Make like your tithes and offerings and pay your dues ma.
Loving yourself was never easy. Neither was standing on scrapped knees. Little girl, please stand still. Stand while hoping you and him would become equal because he told you orally was the only way he can cum… Munication was never the key.
I mean, while you were giving head I was getting head, seemed to get head, so I got a head to give head. So lets be even. And multiply that by two back bone breaker bust butts booming beats that bounce all on your lap.
She regurgitated his melodies. He said he can make her beautiful, but there’s nothing beautiful about forcing more than tampons in places that your mother wouldn’t approve of. Bleeding insecurities wrapped in sperm coated love cells, so maybe then she could love herself.
I keep tripping on your name Richard. Dick. I guess I know what a kid taste like because I swallowed and made ottoman vowels that format an image of what laying in my bed felt like. Latex flavored convos made for Starbucks hours and free wifi scifi. Lets make a movie that we don’t want to believe, what our mothers don’t want to see, and what our father’s karma is seeded.
How condom coated lip gloss filled your mouth with beauty. As if his flow made you speak beauty, when loving yourself was all God asked you to do.
Do what you are suppose to do; in regards to the fact you love lust last lust lisp list every silly sitting position. Bending to two six nine redirected 54 squared averaged Karmasutra designed offenses. Or was my math off by 12 added 96, backward sin city spinning the desires of my heart.
But you can’t caress your own heart. So you made him caress your sexual parts. “He loves you”… but what he meant is he wanted to f@#k you.
We slip surf sip surf shape back buck f&#ked until eggs met harmonious with potential nine months too early.
Stroking back and forth while you stroked more than his balls of thoughts. Thinking he can make you feel better.
Like why is your crotch the only thing getting face time? Lies lay on your lap while dancing wasn’t foul play, before foreplay, word play. And I already had that sample. So when you Haagen Dasz my dreams as far as my legs would stretch, hell’s gates went wide open. So my hands scratched my naval and wished I showed it some love.
Just love yourself. Caress your own flesh wounds as if you were masturbating your insecurities to fall back into place. Let your fingers fall into place. Open your lips (down there) to whisper values that no man should be valued more than… And then ask him, how can I love you if I don’t love myself? Little girl, you’ll never need to suck more than lollipops to get you going; never think you need him to get you going. And you can’t get him going….
I feel it coming in the air… Pause for negative reaction. You keep on going and going just like the bunny inside. Stop jumping off like reverberating name calling. Neighbors seem to know it very well that you thump like jack rabbits and jack his jack hammer. Whip and whack lean forward so he can smack. Stop and take a timeout to realize that this is just disgusting. Baby girl you disgust the life style of sucking steel. He killed you at least twice through tunnels with three buck shot, and two buck bullets with only one nut. Have some pride in your intelligence to count, so hold your breath because tonight will be the night that you will fall for him over again. But I will try to change your mind.
Momma always said what goes up must come down. And panties and self esteem shouldn’t remain down. He’s just trying to be down, but YG’z and YB’z is nothing but little boys trying to learn their alphabet. Standing on corners “representing sets”. But sets became broken homes when parents decided to leave their child alone. They didn't get paid for their jobs, so don’t get paid for giving him jobs… blowing more than birthday candles.
When you were eight, don't you remember the immaturity that you faced when little boys were making Play Dough figures of parts that were never erect only when to pee. Piss the imaginations of a good night trust kiss and held fairy tales kept by faith that chastity is of good virtue. Missing the hours that lying back on your back looking up hoping to gain some back track thoughts to make sense of what has happened... You gave up your white satin for rosy red drapery.
I remember the days when you were actually beautiful... The days when your beauty stained like red cheeks. But it only happens under what you wear; he still can't make you beautiful. So you swallowed make up to make your insides beautiful. While he was breaking something that was already broke.
Virginity!
Being stolen din't make you love yourself like giving him gifts when it wasn't his birthday like wearing a suit when it wasn't his birthday. Like him not liking you but liking what he gave you.
Liking the yeast infections that ran from your hips to your second set of lips. Liking when he calls you a b*%#h! Little girl tell me, do you love yourself now?
Just love yourself. Caress your own flesh wounds as if you were masturbating your insecurities to fall back into place. Let your fingers fall into place. Open your lips (down there) to whisper values that no man should be valued more than… And then ask him, how can I love you if I don’t love myself? Little girl, you’ll never need to suck more than lollipops to get you going; never think you need him to get you going. And you can’t get him going….
I feel it coming in the air… Pause for negative reaction. You keep on going and going just like the bunny inside. Stop jumping off like reverberating name calling. Neighbors seem to know it very well that you thump like jack rabbits and jack his jack hammer. Whip and whack lean forward so he can smack. Stop and take a timeout to realize that this is just disgusting. Baby girl you disgust the life style of sucking steel. He killed you at least twice through tunnels with three buck shot, and two buck bullets with only one nut. Have some pride in your intelligence to count, so hold your breath because tonight will be the night that you will fall for him over again. But I will try to change your mind.
Momma always said what goes up must come down. And panties and self esteem shouldn’t remain down. He’s just trying to be down, but YG’z and YB’z is nothing but little boys trying to learn their alphabet. Standing on corners “representing sets”. But sets became broken homes when parents decided to leave their child alone. They didn't get paid for their jobs, so don’t get paid for giving him jobs… blowing more than birthday candles.
When you were eight, don't you remember the immaturity that you faced when little boys were making Play Dough figures of parts that were never erect only when to pee. Piss the imaginations of a good night trust kiss and held fairy tales kept by faith that chastity is of good virtue. Missing the hours that lying back on your back looking up hoping to gain some back track thoughts to make sense of what has happened... You gave up your white satin for rosy red drapery.
I remember the days when you were actually beautiful... The days when your beauty stained like red cheeks. But it only happens under what you wear; he still can't make you beautiful. So you swallowed make up to make your insides beautiful. While he was breaking something that was already broke.
Virginity!
Being stolen din't make you love yourself like giving him gifts when it wasn't his birthday like wearing a suit when it wasn't his birthday. Like him not liking you but liking what he gave you.
Liking the yeast infections that ran from your hips to your second set of lips. Liking when he calls you a b*%#h! Little girl tell me, do you love yourself now?