Pink P*ssy Poetry: Emotional Support Child.
Ending March, Breaking Character Without Permission...
Iām the first you run to when your world falls apart,
just dumping your weight with no care for my heart.
The nanny, the placeholder, the one on defense,
your built-in therapist, no need for consent.
I wipe every tear that fell while hiding mine,
holding you up steady while losing my spine.
I gave you my shoulder with strength I never owned,
learning way too early what it meant to be āgrownā.
Itās āYouāre in chargeā cause youāre never home,
so I held it down like that house was my throne
but when you returned, it was back to the pain.
Then, I had to remember that I was āwell-trainedāā¦
To silence my gut and follow your lead,
donāt ask no questions, just give what you need.
Be seen but not heard, donāt think, just obey,
survival, for me, meant folding me away.
You taught me love came with terms and a price,
that money meant safety and men would suffice.
That doing whatever to get you a ring,
was worth more than truthā¦or anything.
But I didnāt believe it, not deep in my core,
your version of life never felt like mine to explore.
You handed me scripts that never matched what I feel,
tried molding my truth into something unreal.
Meanwhileā¦
You built you a life that looked stable and neat,
while chaos was dancing beneath my feet.
Told me to accept what you chose as my own,
while I was STILL askingā¦where the fuck is my home?!
I carried the weight, the silence, the role,
the fixer, the holder, the patch for YOUR soul
but somewhere inside me, something withdrewā
I finally get itā¦
I was NEVER a child to you.
So now, I release what was never mine,
unlearning every role that erased MY design.
No anger, just clarity. Iām cutting it throughā
and choosing myselfā¦
like I always was supposed to.
Some roles are assigned so early, we donāt realize they were never ours to carry. This piece isnāt about blame. Itās about clarity. About recognizing the ways we were conditioned to overextend, overgive, and override ourselves in the name of loveā¦and what it takes to finally choose ourselves instead.
This is the END of the Mask.
The END of the Silence.
The Full RECLAMATION of Paris. š¹
š§ Her Channelled Frequency: Still Standing by Monica
Reminders from The Stu. šµš¹:
A channelled frequency is just that. So when listening think more experience, moods and senses than the artist, their dealings and backgrounds. For example, how old were you or where were when you first heard the song?
Please only take what resonates, leave what doesnāt.
Eye Love You Always, Black Woman. šŖ·