The Irony called women

She was dutiful, but then… she also dreamt!

Always into that crack of conscience, her budding dreams bent.

She is a testament to resilience, drenched with doubts.

Because every night her unspoken fears, silently sprouts.

She is a whirlwind of energy never needing to stop,

But why this feeling of aloofness, within her often pop?

She is a mix of gems, polished and raw.

Like a zig zag puzzle, she is perfectly fitted without a flaw.

She is an untold tapestry abruptly cut,

Because her relentless critic, Mr. Guilt keeps her shut.

She is an unyielding shadow beckoning for hope,

Pure as dark, she is also an addictive dope.

Goddess she is! With boundless fierce and fragility combined.

Celebrate as and when her symphony of might and retreat, unwind!

As her duality evolves, equally embracing both light and shade,

The playful and poignant irony called women, is beautifully made.