In the shadows of her solitary mind,
Where whispers of defiance softly creep,
Sylvia weaves her words, a tapestry
Of strength, in a world that bids her sleep.

Her pen, a sword against the silent night,
Carves paths of courage through the darkened skies,
Revealing truths that many dare not speak,
As echoes of her voice begin to rise.

She dances on the edge of fierce despair,
Yet finds the fire within her soul anew,
Each verse a beacon for the silent hearts,
A call to arms for those who seek the true.

In Plath, we find a mirror to our fight,
A testament to strength in whispered cries,
Her legacy a flame that never dims,
Illuminating paths for future eyes.