Forenoon, afternoon, evening, night,
Employment hours of twenty four by seven
U equivalent work throughout the day
Toiling's her only own duty
Providing service to every beauty
Despite her own woes
Has to keep up with everyone's desires
Be it ablution, cooking, decorating, dressing,
Choice has long been erased
Accepting has gained permanence
& denying doesn't even exist.

Toil toil and only toil
Regardless of illness, aches, injuries,
Nothing can obstruct the way
Because pain is something that
Has to be kept obscure.
If disclosed, then criticism
If obscured, then she's agile.

No one ever tried to find out her preferences
They simply kept on imposing their preferences.
Forgetting & leaving aside her own comfort zone,
Engages herself in providing others comfort zone
Never cared for her own happiness, pleasure
Rather finding bliss in others,
No one's actually out there for her
She's the only angel for everyone.

Life of hers doesn't really belong to her any further
It's owned & ruled by others,
Tears roll out from her eyes at the end
But even at that hour
She has to toil in the bed too,
Then late night her fatigued eyes shut
& with it one more day passed
Still she didn't utter an ouch,
Accepted everything with a wide curve on her face
She's nothing but actually
"A Blessing in Disguise".

.    .    .