She was underfed, On love and acceptance, On reverence and confidence, Till the lines of melancholy, had conquered her wrinkles. Beetle browed ,she sewed, Her eyes at the sight of the ones, Tagging her self worth with, Questions and scepticism. But her eyes had swamped up, unravelling the fibers which had, Hemmed her pair of eyelids, Letting her tears to a vent. Her mind was gridlocked , In a psychotic delirium. But a storm was brewing inside, Her heart which was stronger Than the one she'd been through.