Poor, Poor...

My poor poor pussy
Bald, cold, and alone

Why can’t she have a revolution and protest the men
And keep her afro-centric bush letting it grow wild and free?
Free from the cares or worries of what men think is sexy
She is sexy because the mind attached knows she is sexy
But she does not look sexy
She needed to be groomed.
Like a small Yorkie or Poodle
She needed attention
So a makeover was done.
I trimmed, cut, shaved, creamed, and waxed
Waxed…and waxed..and waxed again
Each shred of my innocents yanked from its roots

My poor pussy is no longer warm and secure
Bald, cold, and alone

Held tightly by soft cotton hugs from Victoria’s 5 for 25
Secretly vulnerable but smooth my pussy can now get the stamp of approval
From a society who said women are only sexy when bald down there
No more hair to bare she stays bald down there
She fell into society’s trap like a lost sheep looking for her shepherd
By insisting women are only sexy when bald down there

So what if she flexed her muscles so big she pushed out not one, but two babies
She has been taken for granted, used, and sometimes abused in a good way
She brings me pleasure and warns me with pain
She survived cancer and still revived with a strength my sexy could only bring back
She is strong and demands respect from the men who only sees her sexy when she becomes…

My poor poor pussy
bald, cold, and alone.