The knives are out for me
I hauled you out
Of the poverty of
The gutter
I took you away
From the bullet riddled
Neighborhoods of the ghetto
I clothed you and made you
Smart and look at you now
You're beautiful you look
Like the model from the cover
Of the magazine and you haven't
Disappointed me and you go on
And you amaze me and pound for
Pound you match the love between us
But now the knives are out for me
And those who looked down at you
From the lofty armchairs are
The first to say how
Ill matched we are
And out of the frustration of
Where you come from from a no hoper
I became responsible for your education
And you're the best my baby you can
Intellectualize with the greatest I'm
So proud of you
But the knives are out for me
And I who is not after your money am now
Accused of exploiting you and I can only
Depend on your love and your loyalty
To defend my dignity and my honor
poem by Ngaka Motaung
Added by Poetry Lover
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