In the labyrinth of the working world, she treads,

A silent warrior in a land of threads,

Her path obscured by shadows cast,

Yet she forges on, donning her pink glasses, steadfast.

With every step, she bears the weight,

Of expectations, biases, and the debate,

A constant struggle, an uphill climb,

In a landscape often unjust, unkind.

She battles stereotypes with every breath,

A ceaseless fight against the hand dealt by death,

Forced into boxes, constrained by norms,

Yet her spirit soars, defying storms.

In boardrooms and offices, she stands tall,

A beacon of resilience, breaking down the wall,

Her voice, a symphony of strength and grace,

Echoing through the corridors of time and space.

Through glass ceilings and shattered dreams,

She perseveres, fueled by silent screams,

Her story etched in the annals of time,

A testament to resilience, sublime.

Though the journey be fraught with strife,

She's a phoenix, rising from the ashes of life,

For in her struggles lies a tale untold,

Of courage, of triumph, of pink glasses, of stories bold.