My Sister My Sister by Winter Giovanni
At the salon is where we carry on.
Sometimes sharing what we have in common.
We might laugh, we might cry,
but what we have is a heart full of sorrow,
wondering what’s he gonna tell us on tomorrow?
“I love you baby! There no one else but you.”
Only to then find out he’s been playing you!
Fee fi foe fum, I’m starting to smell a stinking bum.
I’m just wondering if I need to just run!
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