Weathered were her ways
Unmeasured, impulsive with shades of grey;
She heeded no law nor corrected her brethren from going astray,
Dark indeed were her ways.
As the sun shone upon her
And she heard the leaves rustle and the wind roar,
She sat down by a tree and put down her armor-
Why would one live by this bustle, she said, I wouldn’t like this clamor.
On her feet, she strayed
Far beyond her secret space,
She must avoid every possibility of escape,
She was the living face of cynicism – every life force evoking a disgrace.