The Rebel

To all the amazing ladies who can relate to this poem, you already are my role model ๐Ÿ™‚

In a world full of sweet voices
She chooses to be a rebel.
Do nothing and get placed in heaven,
She’d rather earn herself hell.

She’s building all her strength
Where they fall for curves and looks,
She’s a bowl of lovable mystery
In a world of open books.

Her face isn’t chubby
But as sharp as carved stones,
While they’re busy softening skin
she’s hardening her bones.

She aspires soldiers
Where princesses are dreamt,
For, she be who she wishes to be
And not what she’s meant.

They’re stretching palms
Finding hopes in palmistry,
She’s tightening her fists
Preparing to make history.

While they’ve got their lips stitched
She lets out all her doubts,
In a world full of nodding heads
She chooses to be an open flout.

She’s as scary as death 
And as charming as paradise
Deeper than bullet wounds
Is how I would describe her eyes,
For she’s as firm as truth itself
And as fascinating as lies.

She travels through fogs and clouds,
Why? Nobody could tell.
People have found solace on low grounds
But she is stubborn enough to look for hell.
She knows it’s not going to be easy
And yet, chooses to be a rebel.


5 thoughts on “The Rebel

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