Resilient

"Resilient."
Yes that's the word.
The word used to describe her.
She takes a punch, might stumble, but mama ain't raise no bitch.

She'll get up and God forbid you'd have to look her in the eye.
Satan himself crumbles.
Hath no hell like a woman's look of scorn.

You watch her, amazed by her, afraid to approach her.
They all are, not just you.
See, she isn't human. 'Least that's what they all say.

You've seen her screamed at, beat, tortured, almost in a surrender to defeat-
Or at least most people's point of defeat.
So why does she get up?

What makes her so strong?
You sense it, you feel a power, you can't grasp it, but you know it's there.
She must have a great life; everything put together.

But you don't know her that well, clearly.
You don't know her own damages, her own self destruction.
You don't know what goes on when no one else can see her.

She'd kill and not bat an eye... but she knows the Great One would frown at her.
She'd tell em all to fuck off if it meant a clear mind... but she knows better kindness.
Within her, it is dark. Darker than you. Darker than me.

You think her of someone who can 'do no wrong' as if there are such people.
You think her as someone level headed, she knows she is.
You think her to always be there, always with no darkness to bear.

She hides it all away, thinking to use her ammo for another day.
She has this thing inside of her, suppressed with a goodness she wishes were not there.
She has secrets you couldn't hear with your own ears and she spares telling you, fear of your own suicide.

"God won't give you anything you can't handle," She reminds herself.
"I know that no matter what, you'll always be okay," She repeats words spoken to her years ago.
"You're resilient." She hates this word for it wants her to be weak; weak like you.