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I leave in a hood where gun shots have become music to our ears.
It goes like "bang-bang"
We know its an alert that we are one short...
I live in a hood where blood has
Become the painting of street art...
Its like we lose to gain...
I live in a hood where underground kings have become the pimps of all ****'s..
Its like "aaah-aaah"
Yeah ***** you gon' be ****** for
A ***** to gain rands...
I like in a hood where knives have become friends with underskin..
Its like knives have been glued into pockets...
So welcome to my hood...
She smiles with wounds hidden 
Beaten by sticks
Thrown by stones
And yet she still remains the Queen on the Throne. 

She is sometimes treated 
as passing paper 
blown by winds 
that illuminate stains on streets
As his his feet seek to *****
 her cleansed soul within...

The baggage she carries. 
The shades of burden she walks with. 
The sorrow that she has married. 
As she feel like dust
as it has no value 
when it's wiped of valuable goods..

He enters her purse
as she is not obliged to
be taken advantage of
By him who played the characteristics 
of a two-faced lover as he has entered her...
All thanks to lust.

The beauty of a woman 
not appreciated.
All her struggles fail
to define her, but are then told
because they are the reason of
UBUHLE BENTOMBI!!
Take me to a place where only our hearts will appear outta space...
Touch me in a place where you'll get my highness of love. 
Talk to me as if it is the last hour for you to prove your love for me...
******* lips as if they were the last bag of jelly tots. 
Oooooohhhh. **** me like it was our last.
Fill my heels with excitement 
And I promise you 
it won't be our last
Paint me with the slight scars 
that appear with insights of
incidents that took place
with nature's intention to groom my strength. 

The beauty spot 
on my lip is not an
Edit but a feature of difference amongst 
millions that exist. 

If possible, make my
dimple stand out 'cause
It's my symbol of my joy.

With your painting of me
I'll carve stars that'll shoot 
to endless nights of happiness. 

Paint an image of me that represents 
Our love.
So mom told me " I don't know what we are going to eat tomorrow ".
I decided to leave my beauty 
'cause I knew "Pretty" was going to keep us away from starvation in the next morning. 
Tight dress, I wore.
9 inches heel, I wore. 
Red lipstick, I wore.
Mascara
Blush
Mud or whatever the usuals call it " a Coverage".
I once heard " Pretty " makes you the centre of attention. 
I heard that "Pretty" fills your pocket for a day.
I mean no jobs.
Lack of education. 
What is there for me to have a profession in?
Millions spent to change streets that already have names.
Pastors don't practice what they preach. 
Case documents missing 
And Lawyers being caught in the middle. 
Governments expanding their estates with the nation's money 
Who are we to trust these people with our lives?
Who am I not to use my Pretty flaw to cash up?
Who am I to criticise, when I too is breaking the image of womanhood? 
Yes, "Pretty" struck an *** of a man's eyes.
Boxers who can't read or write earn millions for a round. 
I get R200 for a round
Battling with a stranger
Pretty smashes beauty.
Him winning the round
Me losing myself
        Losing self-respect
        Losing womanhood. 
But still we had a something to eat the next morning and night. 
My mom smiled not knowing where it all came from.
So mom told me " I don't know what we are going to eat tomorrow ".
I decided to leave my beauty 
'cause I knew "Pretty" was going to keep us away from starvation in the next morning. 
Tight dress, I wore.
9 inches heel, I wore. 
Red lipstick, I wore.
Mascara
Blush
Mud or whatever the usuals call it " a Coverage".
I once heard " Pretty " makes you the centre of attention. 
I heard that "Pretty" fills your pocket for a day.
I mean no jobs.
Lack of education. 
What is there for me to have a profession in?
Millions spent to change streets that already have names.
Pastors don't practice what they preach. 
Case documents missing 
And Lawyers being caught in the middle. 
Governments expanding their estates with the nation's money 
Who are we to trust these people with our lives?
Who am I not to use my Pretty flaw to cash up?
Who am I to criticise, when I too is breaking the image of womanhood? 
Yes, "Pretty" struck an *** of a man's eyes.
Boxers who can't read or write earn millions for a round. 
I get R200 for a round
Battling with a stranger
Pretty smashes beauty.
Him winning the round
Me losing myself
        Losing self-respect
        Losing womanhood. 
But still we had a something to eat the next morning and night. 
My mom smiled not knowing where it all came from.
So I asked " what will I be to you when I'm gone? 
Will I be the dead one?
Will I be the cut on your heart? 
What will I be to you?"
Not intended to leave with unfinished tasks 
But I intended to fall in love with you
Will I still be your lover?
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