The scent of body odor
Strong grit for her dreams
Nobody cares if she cries
She pulls trash bins
Black hair and square glasses
Dirt on her tawny skin
Troubles she keeps to herself
No complaints, not a sissy
She stocks shelves
Strong, calm, and silent type
Dry and cracked knuckles
Tunes her radio to hip hop
According to her moods
Punch the clock on time
Shows her heart to no one
Some say she is a survivor
Others say she is a nun
I know she deserves good
Daily wage grounds her
Clenching to her personal Jesus