I was a doormat
I was your slave
Tourture and pain were the words one would use to describe my life
But now I tell my story

All roses and paddles filled up a room
Candles lit up
At least they were not as bright as my smile
And I took a sit not knowing that I had to pay
By blood and tears

I would listen to Maya Angelou's “ Still I rise "
Every word would disolve so fast in my dark and shallow heart
Not knowing how to act on those deep cutting words
I stayed till my mother had to say goodbye to me
In a room filled with women who fought
And she asked herself “ why didn't she fight "