Riptide

She was a river,

Running on her own,

But flowing down a path

Already carved in stone.

Society had decided

Her future and fate,

Shaping her path

Through its mandate.

Her vision was clouded

By the forces around,

How could her imagination run free

When she was so tightly bound?

Since she was a little girl,

She wanted to conquer it all,

Now she's a wife and a mother first,

Answering to every beck and call.

The river ran its course,

Her goals ran divergent,

Afraid to change directions,

Shackled by norms and judgement.

She was not the author

Of her own life chapter,

She had achieved every dream,

But none belonged to her.