The final part of the poem. This is an alternative to part 2 (a). Choose whichever you like.
Taught to be meek, submissive she was,
Not a fierce orchid, she should be a rose.
That’s what had been ingrained,
Into her that she’d sustained.
But now she was unsure about it,
Why couldn’t she be as she saw fit?
All her life, she’d been hushed and told,
Words are silver but silence is gold.
She was fed up with the gold now,
Wanted silver and wanted it how!
To speak sweetly she didn’t want,
She wanted to roar and to daunt.
They looked at her like she had,
Gone crazy and been driven mad.
She didn’t let them her though,
She’d do it now, no matter the row.
So she wrote, what she really felt,
And to her power, they finally knelt.
Now at peace with herself she fluttered,
At long last, she was truly unfettered.