I decided that perhaps the entire world was right.
Maybe I am a bitch.
Yes, I know that it is not a nice moniker to own
At the same time, its branded onto my dress.
A Giant letter B.
Because I absolutely will defend my child
with the marrow in my bones if necessary
and I will not wear an apron like it is a cape
and I do not bend or break because someone else
does not approve of what I say or do
And I will not simply take to survive
but I will create something new right on top of you
I am not a missile I am the Pentagon.
I can be nice but I see your eyes are not on my face
Polite and proud, classy and crazy
My expensive handbag has mace in it-
And I can socialize with the poor or wise or rich or dumb
And hold my own
The man on my arm is a beast and I am with him
Until he or you or anyone else makes me whip off the polish
If I need to defend my name or my honor
There is warrior blood under that shiny gold veneer
Nothing cute about it-
Facts are not cute.
So if you must label me something world, I see you choose the bitch
Maybe, this one time, you are right.