BEYOND THE BARE SHOW

Most times I see through her eyes, pains

Which seem so severe. She fakes 

Smiles just to push along this lane

That seems so dry. "I am fine" is nay.


Like the donkey with its heavy load

She is enduring things beyond her hold 

While many thinks she is just in fold 

Of pretense. Maybe because she is bold.


"When? how? am I cursed?

Why me? What's the cause?"

Should have been her daily chores

But then in songs, her sorrows forgot'n.


Bold and beautiful, her first definition.

Resilient and dutiful, her true exposition.

Bare to reality, full of exceptional diction.

Her life is ruled beyond the things in fiction.


She is screwed in anguish,

Living in thorns, not her heart wish.

But most want her for rubbish.

How can men be this selfish?


Kenewrites



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