How would my Mama even know who I am?

I ask. How would my Mama even know who I am? She’s reacted towards me according to what? Her own opinion of herself is. Cuz she surely has not seen the me that the people around me see?

I’ve got friends. Many friends. Does my Mama even know me? Really? She knows her.

And her actions tell more about her than they do about me that’s for sure.

I am all that a bag of chips. If she can’t see that she blind as a bat who’s radar isn’t working.

Like what the hell? Hell is right! Some devils been talking in her ears And She listening!

Well not me. No sir. She can have her sick demented idea of who I am. Cuz I’m not buy that bag of shit talk.

Hey lady! I’m not who you think I am!!

Better check yourself into a home!

And you dear woman! Have been punked by the child you gave birth too. So, Go and sort yourself out cuz I’m solid.

Six years. And add 20 more, is long enough to wait on some woman who’s all jacked up and to lost in her bible verses to even see what an amazing woman I’ve grown up to be.

Jokes on you doll. All you. Cuz I’ve moved on and your the one left out in the cold now.

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