She
There is an unsettling thunder in her gait,
An outright mockery in her smirk;
Her half-closed eyes speak of a defiance
That cannot be defeated.
She pinches pain in those
Tight-lipped smiles of hers,
And burns all hate in her retinas.
What weapons could ever destroy her?
She is the war herself.
Armed with a silent endurance,
Clutched close to her bosom.