 So beautiful, my beautiful girl complexion, eyes like a ruby lens, beautifully looking

 through me in reflections and dimensions, my makes like jubilees, it's soothing me,

 my essence is like jewelries, my kink is finally grooming me, my confession, my kink's my protection

 and even when slaves use it in winter depressions, the cotton on my head's rejected, it's blended

 with weave extensions, looking like strangled seaweeds embedded, my sexually transmitted

 follicles are infected, lacking mineral dressings and after I've pressed it, my hair looks like

 loose-kip connections and I would be charged for deceptions if there was such thing as

 putting me on a root detention for mistaken pretensions, for taking weaves and making

 me look make-believe because it's burnt with hot comb foreplay, smelling like solar arrays

 far from myrrh and laurier and flowers and floral domains, you see I didn't fit the black

 description of what then attracted him and his visions because his imprints couldn't run

 like train tracks on bad engines, because waves and tracks of Egyptians were inflicting

 the entrance of his fingerprints and no stimulants off of my follicles prescription as he was

 listening, our intimate confused like something new, afrocentric naturals neglected an executive

 session, now it's in the traumatic section as eurocentric satin is accepted but eurocentric

 platinum is expensive and imagine paying taxes for synthetic investments because laws have

 implemented in Baltimore and colleges and professions as weaves become incentives, kinky

 is seen as offensive, deceptions in offices made her feel like a cockatrice, rejection

 on documents, her locks and twists, conceptions like a fallen mist, now cut off in directions

 anonymous, she tossed her pick and missed the symbol of a drodden fist, it hurt like

 a throbbing cyst to follow trends, so let's bring it back to the 70s when afros weren't

 removable and bring our cuticles back to the toes when afros were so beautiful to the soul,

 you see my goal is to realize the beauty of its whole, extols from an afro chick the beauty

 of the hold, you remind me of mutt to never know, soft brand like African sheepfold, soft

 cotton strands, the color of a deep gold, like a chocolate candy, your hair feels like

 cotton candy to my teeth's hole, far from a cheap toll, the sight like tiny rippling

 seashores we kiss, feeling the richness, your enrichment feeling like bristness, the color

 of twig sticks, color crop like Egyptians, and did I mention your hair is thick like

 golden pendants, its presence like gold investments of a 25 karat gold fluorescence, your rich

 circumference doesn't feel like 100% of a weave in synthetics in Texas, plus when we

 French kiss and caress in a cotton maze, our beauty penetrates through cropped affections

 like collections of a livestock productions, you see that's why I'm loving cotton pleasures

 because it feels like I'm cuddling with cotton sweaters, so beautiful.

So beautiful, my beautiful girl complexion, eyes like a ruby lens, beautifully looking through me in reflections and dimensions, my makes like jubilees, it's soothing me, my essence is like jewelries, my kink is finally grooming me, my confession, my kink's my protection and even when slaves use it in winter depressions, the cotton on my head's rejected, it's blended with weave extensions, looking like strangled seaweeds embedded, my sexually transmitted follicles are infected, lacking mineral dressings and after I've pressed it, my hair looks like loose-kip connections and I would be charged for deceptions if there was such thing as putting me on a root detention for mistaken pretensions, for taking weaves and making me look make-believe because it's burnt with hot comb foreplay, smelling like solar arrays far from myrrh and laurier and flowers and floral domains, you see I didn't fit the black description of what then attracted him and his visions because his imprints couldn't run like train tracks on bad engines, because waves and tracks of Egyptians were inflicting the entrance of his fingerprints and no stimulants off of my follicles prescription as he was listening, our intimate confused like something new, afrocentric naturals neglected an executive session, now it's in the traumatic section as eurocentric satin is accepted but eurocentric platinum is expensive and imagine paying taxes for synthetic investments because laws have implemented in Baltimore and colleges and professions as weaves become incentives, kinky is seen as offensive, deceptions in offices made her feel like a cockatrice, rejection on documents, her locks and twists, conceptions like a fallen mist, now cut off in directions anonymous, she tossed her pick and missed the symbol of a drodden fist, it hurt like a throbbing cyst to follow trends, so let's bring it back to the 70s when afros weren't removable and bring our cuticles back to the toes when afros were so beautiful to the soul, you see my goal is to realize the beauty of its whole, extols from an afro chick the beauty of the hold, you remind me of mutt to never know, soft brand like African sheepfold, soft cotton strands, the color of a deep gold, like a chocolate candy, your hair feels like cotton candy to my teeth's hole, far from a cheap toll, the sight like tiny rippling seashores we kiss, feeling the richness, your enrichment feeling like bristness, the color of twig sticks, color crop like Egyptians, and did I mention your hair is thick like golden pendants, its presence like gold investments of a 25 karat gold fluorescence, your rich circumference doesn't feel like 100% of a weave in synthetics in Texas, plus when we French kiss and caress in a cotton maze, our beauty penetrates through cropped affections like collections of a livestock productions, you see that's why I'm loving cotton pleasures because it feels like I'm cuddling with cotton sweaters, so beautiful.

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