Rich elite playing rent a womb
Because they are too busy to carry
Too skinny to carry
Too happy to source an empty river
And drink from it without prayer
Too busy to grow your baby in your own belly
What the fuck you gonna do
Once it’s here?
But we have time for the red carpets, don’t we girls?
Have time for the Reels and podcasts
Have time for the Vogue photoshoots
And interviews
And workouts for that perk arse
Got free holidays to attend
Lovely sheiks to shit on
And God forbid
That dress you was handed
Fits wrong
I can see it now
Baby wrapped in towel
You’re on the cover
Showing off the goods
A week ‘postpartum’
How it’s been so hard on
Your staff, because
We know you never would
You still look gorgeous
Body and skin and hair flawless
Preaching gospel to other new mothers
So they can look down at their loll
They’re unwashed and untold
Comparing to one another
But their little baby they hold
First time in their lives
Their weight, complexion and beauty
Ain’t crossed their minds
Just like the one you paid
To play mould
She’s got all of that shatter
But what does that matter?
As the difference is
Her baby was sold
She won’t get the centrefold
Won’t receive public boon
Put out to pasture
Until another celebrity
Wants her womb.
by Lyric Deep.
Lyric Deep™ 