Servant
She too is a She
Then why?
Other Shes do not,
Consider her as a
She.
Or at the least,
A living soul
With flesh and blood.
She clean their clothes,
She scrub their riffraffs,
She mop their house.
Is this all her duty?
To clean their undies?
To throw their rubbles?
Or her’s, the Countess.
She was a wean,
Who saw a beautiful world,
With kinfolks.
She was a teen,
Who saw a beautiful love,
With the One.
She was a youth,
Who saw a alluring life,
With the Flame.
At last,
She was a mother,
Who dreamt a glorious future,
For her offshoots.
But,
Horizon swivelled on
Riches and strings.
She came to you,
To be a breadwinner.
You bid her.
You sipped and ripped,
And scrawled and smudged,
And popped and dropped.
And the lil floret withered.
But,
You slurred over the verity.
She too is a She.
A She, who possess both
Hell and Heaven within.
