Pretty Messed Up.

I've read about the woman, the wisest man proverbs,
The woman whose strengths measure beyond they abs,
The P31, woman who isn't up for grabs
I've read about a woman that my grandfather talks about,
A woman who sings to the river and by its banks,
A woman so beautiful, she walks and they glance
Yes, she cook and work hard as she hums,
The woman my grandma said she was,
The woman that Africa hasn't lost,
I have read about her, yes she is strong,
Her family leans for help, that springeth,
She is a lily, my own mother is Lily
Grandma gave that name to her,
My mother gave me rose, yet another flower,
I have read about Sarah, nations' mother,
Shrewd for them, was she with a gold nose ring, Rebecca,
Rachel I've heard, she was worth the two setted labor,
Yes of them all I have read, I am also told,
Told of my strengths, what I should be,
The expectations, the ideal form a woman should be,
They are amused by the womb, in bearing  life, strength
I am told of it's beauty, then I look beneath,
I look into the mirror, the woman on the other side,
The woman stares tenderly sad,
Her smile deceives with discreet,
She is tired, she is broken,
She is not the image of perfection, she needs to lean,
The woman in the mirror sobs,
She lets the little girl cry, then wears her head high,
She is nothing like them, she is not their expectation,
The woman in the mirror whispers, and it breaks,
'I am a broken woman,'
The journey exhausts her, she needs not hope but love,
Yes life through another path has took her,
She will be loved, more than anything, she will love,
She will give strength to those around her, whether she has it or not,
But they fathom not, when she fails,
They do not hear of her ailing,
They shut their ears to hers misgivings,
Mother of all woes, she has wept,
Even so, she is great, she is strength.