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Suspicion was in her eyes like contact lenses,
in her ears like hearing aids.
Her impression of any man she engaged
filtered through her rage.
Unable to turn the page to a clean sheet,
everyone of us brothas was forced to compete
with a concept of manhood most men could not meet.
Her heart’s walls as high
as her standards, and her moat extra deep.
Since so many successfully pandered
to her daddy issues to land her In sheets,
distrust of all men became her only answer.
But loneliness festered within like a cancer,
when all she wanted from life was to meet
a man who could see her spirit.
Listen it to speak rather than just hear it.
Feel its pain and help her repair it.
Stand guard letting none who would harm it get near it
ever again,
That would restore her waning faith in Black men.
She wondered if that was too much to ask…
-HymnAgen
