I feel as if I'm becoming a *****.
As if my body is no longer the temple feminists and my mother claim it to be.
I just feel my body isn't my own.

I meet men every day.
Once I searched but now I let them find me.
It's not like they sit long enough to hear my words.
To hear how educated I am and how I'm pretty cool to be around.
Nah, all they want is my womanhood
And I, being weak for words and a pretty face,
Let them have it.

"That ***. ****, that ***."
Is that my redeeming factor?
"Those eyes, ****"
Is that the only thing about me, clothed, that interests you?
"****, them moves"
Boy if how I work in the bedroom is all you seek I need you to keep moving.

Because I'm sick of being the ***** of my friends

I had a conversation not long ago that most of my male friends wanna "hit that hard"
I gotta say, for a second I was flattered.
After being called ugly since I was young, being wanted in any way is flattering to me
Call me pretty and I'm yours.
Call me **** and I'll show you.

****
Reading my own words have instilled in me a will to stop but
The fact is that I won't
This destruction of my psychosis is simply the beginning, and certainly unbecoming
Of a girl like me,
I'd call myself a woman but that would disgrace the ones who work hard and love harder.

Nah, I'm done sneaking out of my house to hit it and quit it.
I'm done lurking in shadows for love.
The simple fact is that I don't know where this derailed train of self destruction will lead me but I have my one way ticket
Might as well find out, right?