Everyone says that she broke the mold
in whispered tones. She just walks by
without a care in the world.
Her jeans are too long and ratty,
her hair too short and curly
for society's tastes.
She holds her head too high
and speaks too openly.
But she doesn't care.
Whispers follow her
along with dark looks and sideways glances.
No one knows
that she cries herself to sleep.
They can't see that she's terrified
of what they think.
But she knows that she can't back
down now. It's only just begun.
She's an extremist on the edge
between herself and society.
She rejects society
as society rejects her.