“Just keep your eyes closed, baby, it won’t hurt a bit; I got you, I ain't leaving until we in a pit.” Next thing you know, “Who needs a shawty? They ain't shit.”

You get the point? Nah you’re missing it. Ya playing girls like it's lit; ya’ll say anything until it's time to be real. It takes one of your boys being killed, or a gunshot wound finally getting healed. But there’s a girl in the bathroom right now ready to pop a pill. All the pain she bears, but who really cares? It all connects to one point. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy: “But mom, he's different, he won't treat me like a toy.” She tries to hide the fact that they're all the same. They don't feel pain in this sick world, where love is just a game; everyone wants fame and no one feels shame. She cries into a pillow, weeping like a willow wishing she had both her parents; but she doesn’t, so mom has to play both parts. Dad drifted off like a loose shopping cart. She looks to boys for comfort; no one can see she's already six feet under, and she hearing the thunder. She plays along with dudes because she needs to act cool. “Babygirl, that's the wave, it’ll be okay, just keep your head high and aim for the prize.” Nobody knows this either but she's not scared to die. No, this is not a lie; all these thoughts came from being with a boy: “But mom, he's different, he won't treat me like a toy.”