Herself

As the first teardrop fell from her eye
she was glad, tired of holding them in for a while.
It was never easy to maintain her composure for so long
but she endured it, her tears not worthy enough to all.

She was a woman of pride
which ate her conscience at times.
But never she anticipated that one day
she would lose to reality, lose her head.

Her strength was in her beauty, her brains
her mannerism, her grace.
But it all seemed to crumble the minute
she let common opinion get to her head

Someone needs to believe in her, but why
she is too strong herself.
That's what she let others believe
so that they let her be, her lonely self.

Some battles need to be fought alone
Like hers with her inner self.
She needs a place to be called her own
The seclusion of mind gives her heart rest.