Who do you see before you? Go ahead, categorize me. Alphabetize me. Under B for big girl. Under N for nice. Under H for havent a clue. Under I for innocuous. You did it in about ½ a second, didnt you.

Being something else inside then what is painted outside is absolute frustration.

Portraying truth only means not to be taken seriously.

Putting your feet where they feel they should be can give birth to infinite insecurity.

Surviving storms of dynamics can tear at the very fabric of your being.

You dont see inside of me. How could you?

Oh, where have I been catalogued?

White chick

Plain bird

Innocent skirt

Naïve child

Funny gal

Lady friend

Just a girl

Being something else outward can help you hide when you need to be bad.

Slipping behind my eyes I fall into my perfect world.

A sliver of iniquity, that resides in us all, deepens and strengthens.

Stretching out its peacock feathers, it knows quite positively, its a necessary evil.

Its what keeps me from falling, from losing myself in a sea of simplicity.

You dont see inside of me. How could you? You dont see the hundreds of years it took to get me here. You dont hear my voice. You dont taste the glorious food I cook. You havent laid eyes on my beautiful daughter that my body made. You dont know that at times I swear like a sailor. You dont see that I am a songwriter, a word writer, a jazz singer, a musician, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a best friend, a spirit, a life, a woman. You see big girl.

Did I mess up your system? Did I fool you with my school teacher looks? Maybe you should throw that tool away. That categorizing, alphabetizing, systemizing, cold, steal, mean tool. Throw it away. It aint working anyway.

Everywhere woman

Around the block woman

Distant woman

Old soul woman

Appealing woman

Nemesis woman

Everything but a girl

Too bad no one knows

Too bad Its hidden away

Too bad its the eyes that can not see

Too bad I can fall for it too