Did she ever felt all consumed
to her last bits, endurance
following a path leading to a vacuum,
her flesh boils with pain, just enhanced.
she ties her hair up into a bun
climbs the creaky stairs
to read bedtime stories, a typical working woman
where her little girls await.
No matter what, she manages to
survive only for the ones
she foolishly believes are close, may pure
be her heart from any regrets.
dedicated to my mom, a working woman who goes through all but when we need her, she's right beside.