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    I come from a long line

    Of women with big behinds

    And huge boobs

    These 40H things sit out so far

    With or without a bra

    Which are unsupportive at best

    Like I got four balloons in my chest

    Women kill for these things

    Silicone implants

    Pretty piece of change

    “Girl imma call you milk jugs”

    But, bitch that’s not my name

    And, no I’m not to blame

    Other girls grew normally

    Trying on trainers so formally

    By fifth grade I was filled out

    Stacked like the house of pancakes

    Men chased me down at thirteen

    Wondering how I filled in those jeans

    I was basically grown

    From the outside looking in

    But I was just a child

    Not ready for awkward stares

    Pinching and remarks

    Little boys without cares

    Motherfuckers without hearts

    As I grew I was used

    Men loved me

    Wanting to titty fuck me

    Although they never stayed

    My cahoonas sure got play

    Suck and supple til erect

    And as hard as nails

    My shirts too tight, too low

    Oh, go to hell

    Buttons popped

    Sweet mountains of dew

    Gravity has lowered them a smidge

    And I seem to get emotional

    As if I was that same kid

    Riding the bus home

    Wishing to be left alone

    Wanting to release my breast free

    Swinging carelessly in the breeze

    Smiling, giggling, I AM FREE!

     

    About The Author

    kavona crop
    Kavona White is a “poet in the making.” Ms. White received her B.A. in Sociology from Norfolk State University. She currently has decided to give her passions her full attention, and become a writer. After dealing with her own issues with mental illness, she finds poetry a necessary part of her therapeutic regime. Her aesthetic is honest, personal, and raw.