How do we know

 

When we are little

We have faith

In our own familie

But what if something

Should happen to them?

We never do know

Do we how it will

All turn out in the end.

My grey blue kitten

Is not a Russian

Nor a mixture

But pure bred

Just like the one

Bought for me

At a fancy cat show

Chartreux

A French blue!

He is the son 

Of the one I lost.

Or was stolen 

From me 

When the world

Was still the way

We remembered it.

All this hatred

For a man 

Instead of a nation

Or a religion

Candace is from

Satin himself

We all know that

It is not difficult

To determine

And yet no one

Can put a stop

To her wicked ways.

Jimmy on the other hand

Is so obvious

Everyone just laughs

And pats each other 

On the back.

He is the one

The destroyer

Of the rightful hier.

He can stay as long

As he does not disturb

The apple cart

All those apples

Ran away all those

Years ago.

While candy refuses

To divulge for whom

She works

Nor will Jimmy

Be any simpler

To rid now that even

Those who wanted

Us out have themselves

Decided it is not worth it

To stay the course

All those old houses

Demolished for no reason

Or are they looking for something

Already taken away?

One never does know

How an event will turn out

Nor whom our descendants

Will become

Or will make of themselves

Why are there so many

Young Africans

Unwilling to leave 

A Native American alone?

Because they are seeking 

Something for others.

Why else do they put

Themselves in danger?

What they seek has already

Been taken and safeguarded.

If I were a rich woman....

My mother was such a person

She took what she wanted

And threw away things

Not hers to get rid of.

All of these places

Were part of the fabric

Of the community

For some reason

Outsiders have come inside

And gotten to have their way

A huge seismetic occurrence

Is coming to them

And all those ugly tall things

Are going to crumble

Like sand in the devils hands.

I would have to hire

For myself in order

To procure an heir

For myself and the survival

Of my own ancestors.

For unknown reasons

Those women

Who to easily

Get pregnant and abort

The unwanted things

Don't realize there are others

Such as myself 

Who just cant have children

Candace has been throwing

Away her children the whole time

But even the black one

Knew what to do

And had her little injections

Ready to keep me from

Discovering what it is 

They are after,

A pure line?

Anyways there is no reason

For Janet to come forward

The Clarke family

Were found to be frauds

A long time ago.

Anyone who knows 

Anything at all

Knows that Jimmy

Is not ours 

For that reason

There have been 

Ways throughout history

For some women 

To acquire an offspring

Such as the Pharaohs daughter

Who was lead to baby Moses

Who was not only her right

To rule Egypt

But also a pure line

His own children appear

To have disappeared

Into the desert

But really where

Did they go?

Instead as a modern

Woman even at a small age

I had to turn to the old ways

Of procuring through magic

And potions 

An heir for myself

The modern equivalent

Of black Cauldon and herbal

Remedies

Was brought about

By the work of some

In laboratories

If I wanted to have

A child of my own

And not borrowed

From some other womans

Womb

I would have to hire out

A womans womb

For the modern 

Convenience

Of inserting my own

Offspring into her

The other way around

Instead of adopting hers

She would have mine

For me!

If I were a rich woman

I would hire out another

In order to provide 

For myself 

One of my own.

For all to be miserable

A real heir

To walk around

Behind them and their woes....