The personification  
of beauty...
 She blind to the
 world outside 
the black steel
 gates of her own.
She sits on her
 rent-to-own throne,
talking loud while
 bending to braid.
 She seeks multiple
 lovers for trade,
 getting paid in 
exchange of the
 royal jewels.
 She nobody’s fool, 
hustles with the best.
 Hides coercion
 under her dress.
Using what she got 
She gets what she need.
See, she got 
mouths to feed. 
Same fruit from
 different seed.
Her loves come
 in bunches.
When they not
 f*cking she dodges
punches like the 
Junior Roy Jones.
With cracked bones 
and crushed esteem,
she presses on  like
 well-oiled machine.
She queen but
 don’t know it.
She feels but
 can’t show it.
Where she from
 feelings are
 for the weak,
and ain’t no
 love in the streets.
She street
 trained so she refrain
 from emotion.
 Sips potent liquor
 potions and pops pills
to instill false pep,
 but deep down she beat down.
Presses on cause
 a bitch can’t slip down
 in the depths of the jungle,
where leopard feed 
and lies leap from lips with speed.