When i was born,
They all looked down on me,
They threw many thorn,
Literally on me,
Fragle, pathetic, female,
And many names,
All drawn on me.
When i was teen,
Lotsa guys hit on me,
Other spat on me,
Bullied me,
But my mother stood for me.
My old lady,
My hero, My queen,
You stood for me,
When their mission,
Was to blurr my mission,
And make it darker than dark!
My old lady,
You are too old,
You have seen kingdoms,
Rise and fall.
And you have bent down a level,
Your hair too grey.
Your face with tangled wrinkles.
My old lady,
Your soul too young,
Wise and tender.
Protective and calm
You belived in me,
You bragged on me,
Now i made it on top,
Because you gave me hope,
Against the whole world.
©upendopoet
M