Who the F*ck Do You Think You Are?

“What kind of fuckery is this?”
― Amy Winehouse

So, this is the poem that I was talking about in my previous post. I extremely irritated when i wrote this, so this is not normally how I react or think. I also took artistic liberty in this piece. I hope you all enjoy!

Who The Fuck Do You Think You Are?

By:Michelle Curry

Dear Sir,

Who the fuck do you think you are? In what way did you think you could win you over? Did you think that all you needed for me to lift up my skirt was a cat call and a honk of your horn? Where shiny cars that you pay for with your welfare check that my parents so gladly take out of their taxes for you and blowing me a kiss defines love and affection? Where I can’t see your bloodshot eye through those busted shades and smell the refer permeate the streets along with your cheap drugstore cologne.

How is “Bitch, you are so fine” a complement? Where i come from boys have manners, class and treat women like ladies. They speak softly to show tenderness and respect. Where Skirts don’t show all you got to give and isn’t for sale. Swag doesn’t cut it, nor does it pay bills. Just because your ancestors were once slaves does not mean that you can treat us like this. Objectification is just that, being objectified.

Bought and sold with fancy cars, Louis Viton bags and materialistic bullshit! Did you know those rims on your car that you paid all that money for actually fucks up it’s performance and just shows me how small your cock is? The fact that you did this is broad daylight on Trade Street none the less. I understand that we come from the other side of the bridge and our cultures are very different, but this is not okay.

And on top of that, you had the nerve to do this on MLK’s birthday. If he was in your car, you would have been slapped. If Jesus was in your car, you would have kept your mouth shut. This isn’t Rack City bitch, rack rack city bitch. You can keep your tens tens tens, twenties and your fifties bitch. If you read the bible that was preached to you on Sundays, you would know that saying, “If I could, I would fucking rape you right now” is not okay, and your angry God would turn you into a salt pillar.

I ain’t your shorty, bitch, ho, boo, or wifey. I am no hood bitch, nor can I bought with your cock, cars or refer. I am a well educated woman who dresses like a lady and I would prefer to be treated as such. So, this is what I have to give to you. I flick you the bird, say a blatant fuck you and keep walking. Your murmurs are all hogwash and nonsense to me. You are nothing but a scrawny ass hood rat that picked the wrong day to go after some white chocolate. So, go fuck yourself and have a nice day.


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