She walks the treacherous road,
Breaking through the iron doors.
As she walks in to the sunlight and embraces the load.
Along with the crimson “A” she bore.

Everyone stares
At the screaming “A” resting on her chest.
Not a single soul to care.
Not even someone to wish her the best.

The tiger and her cub,
Living alone in the mountain side.
Passing only a single shrub
On the ride.

The years whistled by,
She would soon become a servant of the Lord.
Every night she would cry
Would leave another mark for the r'cord.

As Hester Prynne would lay upon her death bed,
People would came and visit and bless her.
Apologizing for the prejudice they placed upon her head.
And, wish her a farewell as she transferred.