She wakes before the sun, heart heavy with the weight, Fingers numb from counting coins, chasing fate. The fridge is bare, the cupboard's a ghost, But she'll stretch what's left, make it last the most. Food stamps in her pocket, pride in her chest, Fighting every day just to give them her best. She ain't got much, but she ain't ever gonna quit, She'll stretch the beans, she'll stretch the grit. Every day’s a hustle, a battle fought alone, No knight in shining armor, just her and the unknown. She ain't looking for a handout or a pity-filled glance, Just a way to make it work, just a chance, just a chance. Rice and beans for dinner, pancakes for lunch, Two dollars in her wallet, just enough for a punch. Her babies don’t complain, though their bellies may ache, They know mama’s doing everything she can to make. They may not have the toys, the clothes, or the gold, But they got her love — fierce, untold. She’s a queen with no crown, a figh...
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