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The downfall screamed, a thousand tongues her name abuse; She held her peace, the trivial explanation to refuse. Why waste the breath? She knows the clock is on her side: When truth is known, the gossips will have nowhere left to hide. She chose the silence, yet a chair-throw flares inside, A heat of impulse that her graceful self must ride. They mark her calm, a vision of refined repose; She is the eye that sees the lie, the secret of her foes. A quiet canvas where each fragmented picture lies, She finds the hundred reasons hidden in their eyes. You must not be confused. She is not broken, she is primed, And she will strike ten times for every fault you find.