Martyrs

Braiding my hair then cutting it off

Because my femininity's raised by the cloth of the

Bed I lay in when i'm fed the stamen

Of the ones that I learned to adore

Picking up hair from off of the ground

That I bruised my knees on, I find it profound

That the carpet full of DNA from those who went and seeded me

Remembers who I was for

Ripping, ripping, ripping all my hair out

Stuffing, stuffing, stuffing (it) inside my mouth