Because she was a woman,
She was rejected and left in pain,
Even if she cried it was all vain,
Her little candle was blown out and she was left in deep darkness.
She was thin and tall like a Palm tree,
With shoulder bone out cause of hunger,
Her lips were dry and dark,
She walked like a child learning how to walk,
She staggered and fell all cause of hunger.
Her pain grew worse day by day,
And extra sorrow was added as each minutes passed,
The earth was fed up from receiving her tears,
And her soul was buried even while she was still living .
She used rags instead of pads,
To soak her monthly flow same as sorrow,
Her body was stiff as stone,
And her breast flat like an old newspaper.
She had thirty six children,
And each died remaining just one,
He was more like a beast than a child,
But still she fought and fought but never won.
That's her walking down death road,
But even death left her to suffer and grow old,
She was just thirty but a sixteen year old lady could outshine her,
And her life was nothing but a soft sorrow.
She was a woman named soft sorrow,
And as deep as the sea was that's how deep her pain was,
She was a woman,
And a dwelling place for sorrow.
