Life

A job
a way of life
an identity
stripped by
those who rule.
And me
poor girl
sad woman
a fool!
Able and reliable
but disposable...
pushed aside
always put down
I try to hide
my sad frown.
Harsh and evil words
whispered behind my back
by sheepeless heards
cut from the same sack.
their eyes burn
holes in my head
hoping I wont return
or that I may turn up dead
I am a victim of hate
and I don't know why
always fighting fate
and vicious lies
designed for my fall.
No one cares...
Not a little bit
not even at all.