Black Woman Blues I woke up this mornin', alone in my bed, wondering if I , were alive or dead, can't even find, my own house shoes, I guess it's another day, of Black woman blues. In bare feet, I go downstairs to cook some food, and get my kids, on' off to school, my daughter already up, with her friends outside, with her hair all' dyed, and slicked to the side. My son smells like marajuana, with his eyes all red, so I beat his ass' on' out the bed. I get on' dressed, and go to work, even though my back, really hurt. Get my paycheck, and pay my bills, without money left over, for a thrill. I come home, feelin' the blues, my kids got their hands out, for $100 shoes, - they take my cash ,but I give it to em' just cause they ain't got no dad. If only I had a strong black man, to put a ring on my hand, and put these kids back in line, so I can have some free time. But, I clean my house and go to sleep, before I cook the kids, some food to eat. Then I take off my worn out shoes, endin' another day, of Black Woman Blues. I know I'm not in good health, but I guess I'm used to doin' things, by myself. So I'll wake up in the mornin', still feelin' used, to start another day, of Black Woman Blues. Copyright, 1998 Erica Hughes
Reason for writing:
My daily struggle for respect from my counterparts, as a black woman
Birth sign: Libra
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