She toils through the day,
Without a word or a nay,
She earns her daily bread,
Not a tear does she shed...

She stay strong
Whilst she's calm
Oh no! something's wrong
But she's got it in the grip of her palm

Always misunderstood
But never would she brood
Her voice from the whimper to the whisper is actually the lullaby
To her soul food
It sounds so good
To her at least

She hears only herself
Does nothing for herself
She's gat a lot of people she has to make proud
But can she control that crowd
And lastly wear the crown
Oh so help that girl...

© Anjee