Blessed.
That’s what they call me
My hair longer than it truly is
Coloured, imported, expensive as you can see
Envy in your eyes, I swagger in my moneyed glory
Blessed, you call me? You use it like a slur
But I bask in your insults, you’re irrelevant, little
Background noise, you’re just a blur

Parastie, tick, money sucking flea
Oh just some of the words you lot use to describe me
“He’ll never marry you, you’ll never replace his wife”
They say
Ha! As if forever with the fat man is what I want for my life
He’ll never leave her, I know, and I don’t want him to
As if I want to be in her shoes when he finds someone new
The clock its ticking, only I can hear it
It’ll all fade one day, and that day is near

Blessed
Curious name to give, don’t you think
I thought you reserved it only for those you deemed holy
Yet you gave it to me, your very own Jezebel
Oh! The folly of the righteous I do find it quite funny
You painted my portrait, but you looked at him and not me
You never asked who I was, who I am
You never knew about my dreams, who I wanted to be

I am more than a name, a slur, a joke
Like everybody else, I once had hopes
But dreams and hopes in this Luska I see
Are not given for free to the likes of me
They cut off your legs, and they tell you to walk
But get a little help, and they all start to talk
Blessed. It’s a little funny, but it’s okay
Afterall, what’s in a name when you can have your way?

-Chiseche

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