The Solitude Woman
Like the busy bee, making honey day and night,
She keeps working and leading a life that's too tight.
Deep inside, she could hear the heartbreak,
The sense of solitudeness makes it ache.
Too many people come in and out,
Just like the passing clouds.
But, not a day has she found any who truly cares,
Or with whom she can trust and share.
All day she is preoccupied with something,
That literally gives the heart a feel of sting.
At night she is filled with fear,
Wetting and filling the pillows with tear.
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