Of every acquainted woman
she's closely seen.
A woman's psyche as she is born in,
Is deeply scarred at the ruined sight
that notions of her kind suffer from her kin,
And bravely tells the beat in her chest
that its brevity demands a fight.
Her heart knows no aversion
of that intangible battle,
that stands in the way of her being heard
and a stand she could claim a chattel.
But woe to her, if at the end of it all
she lies shattered,
and shies away from the fire
already been lightened.
- Sarah Daniel