The struggle is real , very real, you know;
When a mother after whole tiring day
Exhausted frustrated,
Still in the mid night,
lonely deep night;
Feed her child,
In hope to see him grow
And take her all sorrows....
When alone
She bears pain of her sick child
Moulding it on the mount of heaviness
Already she piles,
Still with smile
She look at him with all hope for some newday without lies.....
The struggle is real,
When she smiles for him,  where she has to cry,
And this amalgamation of emotions
Drown her in an ocean dry,
In hopes still high
In awe of her mournings,
She will see the bright light
For being alive....
Its still real
When u see her with wrinkled face
Thinking about the distant storm
Worrying about bills ,food ,light,
In between feeding ,sleeping ,working,worrying
She hides in books,
Still having some hopes high...
On one day
She will see her son strong
Like a pillar, as her plight,
And her struggle never goes waste.....