In the quiet of her pen’s dance,
A voice emerged, fierce and bright,
Sylvia, with her whispered stance,
Shed light on shadows of the night.

Beneath the surface, storms would churn,
A world of thoughts, unconfined,
Her words, a candle left to burn,
Illuminating the depths of mind.

Each phrase a mirror, sharp and clear,
Reflecting struggles, dreams untold,
A tapestry woven from fear,
Of a world both beautiful and cold.

Through verses, she unraveled chains,
In every line, a silent scream,
A testament to women’s pains,
Awakened from a restless dream.