When you have his baby,
Always remember how he paraded your "sexy" body,
Like you were his goddamn property.
But I stood up for you,
Even without knowing your story.
Because that man has no spine,
He’d brag about how he made me whine,
How he dimmed my shine,
Puffed up with pride,
Claiming he’s the only one touched by the divine.
He’d mock my belief in something deeper,
Sneer at my refusal to measure worth in the shallow,
Calling me irrational,
Just because I wouldn’t rate people along the hollow.
But I see you,
Caught in his games,
A pawn for his claims,
And I hope one day you’ll know—
That I spoke for you,
Because I saw what he’d do.
Not for pity, not for revenge,
But because I’ve learned to stand tall in this storm.
And while he’ll claim divine favour,
The truth is simple—
He never even deserved a glimpse of your form.
So when you cradle that baby,
Knowing this truth I softly hum:
You were meant for love,
But maybe,
Not with this one.
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