Her head hung with shame, Shame she'd done nothing to bring upon herself.
It was the damning shame of a woman forced to carry the cross of others.
One she could not escape from no matter what.
The shame of a wayward daughter now back home with living evidence.
Should be used to it by now, having to shoulder the faults of everyone else.
Nothing new as she'd been forced to take responsibility all along.
It was part of being a woman, she'd heard it said.
Strength to shoulder the mistakes of her family members is what a woman does.
The rest of the family knew her role, took advantage of it.
One after another they all tossed challenges her way
Challenges she had nothing to do with but had to bear.
Leaving her all too weary somewhat feeling like a beast of burden.
Her husband should have known better, or so she thought.
Yet he too did not skip the chance to add on more weight on her.
It was her fault he drank too much then came home late at night.
Would not be the case if she were a better wife to him.
Tears fell from her eyes as she let out a silent sigh
Not too loud, someone might hear her
Wouldn't do for her to mar the picture
The picture of the woman as a symbol of strength.