make mine a double espresso...

  • re(hoe)bilitation

    Posted: May 24, 2010, 8:49 pm by kahawamoto
    you can't turn a hoe into a house wife. - Ludacris
    i saw the word 'rehoebilitation' on twitter. i think it was DeRay Davis. you know how comedians are always talking smack on twitter. But there we have it. The sources have been cited. Don't sue.

    That transformation, when a woman realizes her worth and stops doing it with random men, is it possible?
    There were jokes about it, like it'll take about five years for a bad reputation to wear off, some people think it's not truly possible unless there's some form of religious intervention, or first there has to be some kind of mental breakdown...

    your thoughts on the topic?
    and is it possible for one to really be able to wipe their slate clean?

    i wrote a piece that kind of relates.
    Enjoy.


    INTERNAL PROTEST
    as she lays on the metaphorical bed she made,
    she can’t help but feel like she could have spread.
    It.
    Better.
    now she lays everyday,
    wishing she could roll over and die
    on the brink of depression, she cries.

    she feels her sprit breaking within her,
    drenched.
    Drowning.
    in her own tears…
    this past couple of years, have been a blur
    drunken slurs
    battle scars
    frequenting bars
    fast cars

    she feels her spirit breaking within her
    the countless yeses instead of no’s
    retarded actions, she didn’t know better
    her past self shouldn’t have let her take another sip
    on some chug, chug, chug tip
    for a temporary high
    and a bitch of a hangover
    to her going undercover…

    she feels her spirit breaking within her
    the pieces pierce and scrape her insides
    burnt,
    bruised,
    broked,
    beaten,
    battered
    she muffles her wails to listen to her soul
    she is hurting too
    her vessel,
    her home,
    defiled,
    defaced,
    discarded
    and now,
    widely being discussed…

    by all the men who call her whore
    the ones who held her tight and spent the night
    the ones who grabbed her hips and kissed her lips
    the ones who never called and never stalled…
    to leave in the morning
    her soul is in mourning


    she feels her spirit breaking within her
    silent cries, internal protests…
    they don’t really know me
    what I’m about, who I want to be…
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