See, my boyfriend's a white man
his party is full of the like.
The standards of women
are high and a hike.
From where I am, there's only up.
The real me's a mess, a conundrum, a bluff.
I'm puttin on lipstick & avoiding dark shades
my momma always said that red was a whore's kind of parade.
Hoping my black slacks slender my figure
hiding in layers, looking slimmer and slimmer.
No winged eyes or dark hooded lids
only things bright, inviting, and candid.
my boyfriend he told me, "your shirt's not ladylike."
I wanted to tell him, "this doesn't feel right,
I don't feel like me."
"High heels must avoid, lest we face misery."
He tells me he loves me,
I look nicer than ever.
I practice down sitting in front of the mirror.
I fold in my hands, coaching my self.
Don't be too liberal.
I smile at the lady, last I saw her a kid.
I realized all the things I thought unlearned,
I'll never ever forget.
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