Iâve been slaving all day longMaking mock of me as if nothingâs wrongItâs a curse, Iâm a castawayIâve given all, nothing more to saySo tired, still no endShe placed her hand on her foreheadWondered why, whatâs it forItâs a dead endMrs. B walks towards the doorYou havenât eaten anything, donât you want some more?Does she talk to herself or meContemporary slaveryShe seems shrunkenAnd her face showed signs of her old ageBreakable bonesAll alone without her familyThey are waiting for the death of Mrs. BMrs. B keeps her son to herselfAt least she tries toWhen he married, it cause quite a stirShe hit him and her tooShe wonders why no one callsSince they got her number and allItâll be a relief to slowly drift awayNo more waiting for the lonely daysMrs. B says sheâs all aloneWondering if sheâs safe in her homeDoesnât care to come out because the kidsMight take her purse or blow her to bits