Ooh, Amina.

Amina – pronounced (ah-Mih-nuh), not A-meeeeena. I’m about as plain and strange as they come, but I’m the only one who will admit it.

My parents raised me to be a lady. Teacher told me to be a lady, too. I was born a woman, a lady isn’t something I knew.

I lived by the straight and narrow. You know, the typical A line cut paper, crisp neat tie havin’, multi-cultural, life is a ethnic rainbow shit, my white tee is fresha’, my momma said come straight home from school and don’t talk to boys listenin’, “I really didn’t know people were having sex/doing drugs/killing other nigs in high school”- havin, Ooh my momma’s gonna get me, type of square.

Then I fell in love. That happened the end. I thought I died.

Then Amina transported to the Westside, where she now lives. Where I now exist.

Thats when I fell in love with Amina, that bitch that’s been coop’d up and beaten inside my brain for the past 24 some odd years. It was the first time that I fell in love with a woman. The first time I realized I knew what love was. The first time I realized how often I short-changed her, told her she wasn’t good enough and locked her up like a disease.

Then she broke out. And here we are thank’n lil b the based god and getting lifted.


hell yea im a little strange/different. hyfr. Im the only one willing to admit it.


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