Baby, hear me.
They may be your blood, but you don’t have to bleed
by their hand.
You know
and I know
they ain’t right.
Yes, baby, I believe you.
I hear you screaming
even as
their soft hands
smack
onto your mouth.
Sweetness, I believe you
even as
they bend you down
and tell you
that’s
who you are.
Love, I believe you
even as
they convince you
what you see
was made
by your own hand.
Girl, I know where you come from.
They gon’ tell you who ought to be, what you should you want, what parts of you
you should lay down.
Promise me
that you won’t,
‘cause baby, sweet thing,
I know
who you’ll be one day.
So hold on.
