Personal Space

In the spirit of returning to work, an homage to what is now far too commonplace.

"Personal Space"

Left arm across bar
She's not holding on physically
But verbally
Clearly
To every negative streo-type
The sights and sounds echoed
Over and over again;
Neon nails
And some deprived Indian's hair
Loosely tied to her naps beneath
But I dare you to ask
'It's mine, I bought it!' she'll yell in reply.

Ghetto princess
Her cheap hem reeks assy
As classy escaped
The moment she fell out of some woman's twat;
Dirty as the mouth which speaks
As the attitude common
Her friend a 'Forever 21' bag in tow
It is their name badge
These females
Who are females
Between legs and sheets only
But men otherwise
Who devour and conqure
Despite this public space
And the children who listen and learn.
©2012clarencecbess