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Hotdog Without A Bun

Queen wake up…
Men know your buttons…
Years have taught them much…

But they use it not….
Disrespecting woman still…
The kitchen may be getting…
Smaller…

And your ego a little taller…
But the men who are still…
Little boys are still ballers…

Compromise not young queens…
You are all that in His dreams…
Fight for the respect which…
Is yours…

Put a gate around your sack…
What is a hotdog…
Without a bun…
Ah!

No fun…
Ladies you gather…
To chat…
Saying this and saying that…

But when things are over…
You wish for that four leaf cover…
For you know you are being…
Walked over…

You smile as if it does…
Not hurt…
Bullsh-
You are eating dirt…

And all the while he flirts…
But you are born strong…
Not wrong…

So hang in there…
Stop the compromise…
Get wise…
Cut from him those thighs…

Don’t look surprised…
You know where his ego lays…

Whisperkwane

swtlamb@yaho o.com

poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
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