To The Boy Who Mistook Me For His Mama

How often do we give our warmth and care to those who never truly value it? When does a woman’s kindness turn into a force of reckoning?

To the boy who saw a mother
In my warmth, my care, like no other—
You leaned in close, wide-eyed and free,
Sipping on love like sweet honey tea.

Did you think I’d raise you strong,
Hold your hand, hum you a song?
Feed your dreams and stroke your pride,
While you danced in and out like the tide?

I gave you light, a mother’s grace,
Held your fears, kept steady pace—
But look here, darling, make it clear:
This mama’s wrath is near and dear.

If babes of mine I’ll never hold,
Then I’ll craft a payback, fierce and bold.
For every tear, for every sigh,
For every heart, you left high and dry.

I’ll be the thorn in every scheme,
The storm that floods your sweetest dream—
Not ‘cause I’m broken, cold, or bare,
But ‘cause I’m fire in the midnight air.

So cheers to you, who played the part,
Wore my kindness like a borrowed heart—
But mama’s done, and oh, beware,
For I’m the storm in your smooth air.

When kindness is used as a tool for manipulation, do we not have the right to rise up? How do we reclaim our strength from those who take us for granted?

Comments

My Tips Get The Job Done

Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE works. You get high on your stupid WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach me about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my ladyfingers ...

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Call Your Wife... Call Your Mother...

Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

Cruising Alone

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