you were the first man to hold me close in your arms tightly with endearment
the first man to call me princess and know my cry without even hearing it
the first to look me in the eye and smile as if my existence was the miracle cure
you were the first man whom had my heart
whole, complete, and pure
you were also the first to break it.
you were the one who taught me self worth. to hold my head high, legs squeezed tight, eyes closed to the boys beneath my line of sight, yet
you were the one in and out of pussies every Friday night.
how can you teach one thing and act upon the lessons of another?
tell your daughter to "watch out for them boys," but be the same type of man to another little girls mother?
or should I even call you that.. a man?
or are you just another one of "them boys" trying to find manhood between the thighs of women whose heads were also demanded to be held high.
warned of the boys that steal your heart and lay you down on a bed of lies
ready to steal away the precious cries of a virgin whose daddy looked in her eyes and said "I'll never let anyone hurt you."
