Her soul begs to escape the waking hours

That invites every harshly spoken word

So many, they have become blurred

Tears shed randomly like spring showers

Glistening upon a bosom thrust skyward

Burdened until she feels discarded

Or tis maybe she should be less guarded

But what soul offers mere words

Pain depicted with every unturned page

Defying impulses of unexpressed hopes

Bewildered by unknown expectations

Does she sigh or rage

Defined by this society’s tropes

before her soul creates a foundation.