her bravery was scandalous,
like the roar of flapping feather-less wings,
strong as the tide under the moonlight beam,
like the deafening scream in silent reverie.

her courage spoke volumes of history,
of a war between quivering fears and an adamant being,
of pulling of a lost self by a single string,
of a fight between instincts and reasons buried beneath.

she had won a hundred battles in a span of a week,
not once realizing she always carried glass sword with no shield,
blinded by the tears of the idea none knew,
she kept blooming, she kept healing.

|kn

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