My mother carrried a drunken

My mother carrried a drunken sot over shoulders

Malachite encrusted on her elbows

Amesthyst protruding from the curvture of her hips

Lost in the diamond mines of her eyes

It was easy to not see her burden,

Women were too busy turning emerald with envy at the way she was flirtin'

The fact that she was poised

Glowed when she talked to boys

Did not mean she could not feel the weight of her load

The pugent stink on his breath and dead-weight of his boots made him difficult to hold

So when she walks down the runway

With a fool wrapped on her like a turban 

I can't help feel inspired by women

Who, for me, carried the weight of the world

a weary sailor, with chewed lips, tired eyes, almost half-dead

between her narrow shoulders, atop her head