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CLEANING THE HOUSEMomma has plans for dishes It's a dark cat's night Giving up on the wishes That they treat me right The they that said they love me The they that want me for free The they that need my body The they that treat me shoddy Turn me into a dollar-store woman While I'm Saks Fifth Avenue as they're coming I am all gold When I fit their mold And when I can't They rave and rant Give up on me Because they have another she Momma's cleaning up the dirt Gettin' busy so she won't hurt As they go on home Leaving me to write a poem About how I better clean my house first Use the frustration before I burst Into that momma who's not nice When she's growing spikes of ice Hanging down in her soul As those two men toll There in her confused mind With their other Valentines My heart's full of holes Where the cold arctic wind blows Through the slight mess in my room Where I let go of their gloom To drink coffee and smoke cigarettes Where I will think of this Princess who lets These two men she loves treat her bad All because of what her dad Instilled in her Before they were In her life With this ambivalent strife That brings her world crashing down Where she's 6 feet underground Instead of flying there on high As the angels in the sky Momma's old and good Give up for now she would All the pain those two men bring As she cleans alone her heartunes sing. 1/31/2007 1840 cj Vote for this poem
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