She wears her calm like morning mist,
but underneath, a fire twists,
a blazing heat she dares not free,
a rage unknown for others to see.
Her smile, a veil for storms inside,
where oceans crash, and shadows hide,
like thunder held within her chest,
a torrent craving fierce unrest.
Her voice is soft, but sharp it bites,
a crackling spark in quiet nights,
she holds her wounds, the hidden scars,
beneath the weight of unseen bars.
A fury forged by tales untold,
of battles fought, of courage bold,
she’s silent as the calmest sea,
but inside roars eternally.
And though the world may see her still,
they’ll never know her iron will,
for when the storms of rage unchain,
they’ll find her stronger for the pain.
