Free spirits: I like one.

 

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,

No wonder!

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.