The heart was not a slave, mind was not a master;
Fuel of her own heart, she was the ardent fire.
Nether to nothing, radical to everything;
Not a frigid rather a fervent, she was a rampant.
Chauvinist of her dreams, fanatic for her passion;
Sill a native, no more pandemic and now an endemic.
Corrupt she was in every eye. People spread a quietude.
As if she cared?
Kick of her passion,
Stirred her up!
Whipped her up!
Society was a no stall,
She was an extremist; Biased towards her life.
Had she shoved over their notions,
Then she had been a death, to her own passion.
She didn’t stumble over a society boulder,
Agitation was such.
Yes! Free spirit, she was.
And, I like one.