Auntee

Said I shouldn't be a dancer;
that I shouldn't rap or sing,
and that I should find another way
to make a decent living,
and I used to agree,
wanted to be just like Auntee,
With her smile like the sunrise
that I view from a tree,

Then the flower of a dead Vet opened to me,
how the government charged her
for the education,
how feeding him love
left her starved of appreciation,
how her best friends are debt and self deprecation,
"I do", she said,
made all the right moves,
and still fears the final elimination

And just as with me,
while the man would pay tops for a rhythmic blonde,
he took her nature for free,
for Free...

So I asked my Auntee
what's in store:

Is it better to be used by a man who "loves",
or one that presumes you a whore?