Warrior

Pieces of broken promises are what keep me strong.

Little girl playing busted up with barbies in a broken home.

Hip hop wasn't my escaped it was life that I lived.

I wasn't the cause to express the words that I'd feel.

It was a way not to repress a reality so real.

Not a rap game, no virtural.

Melodic and hurtful

Like a bullet busting through my baby heart.

My injuries were a tattoo. Not a scar.

As I sit  at night listening to smooth tunes and the stories of  old goons like they were my cartoons

I learned to hear past the typical system. Studied with  my eyes, head and heart to really listen.

I made a promise that I will not be another wound black woman. To become a destroyer

My Music is my battle cry. Its simply a story of, how this wounded black woman, became a warrior.