"White From cradle’s touch to final breath, A woman’s journey often bears a weight, Unseen by many, in shadows cast, Her life a ledger where judgments last. Her childhood marred by whispers cold, Her worth debated, her dreams controlled. In clothes and manners, fate is spun, Her essence hidden, her freedom undone. Independence Day, a distant claim, Her rights, it seems, remain the same. Why mark just one day to sing her praise? Every day should end her haze. From sister’s laughter to mother’s tears, Her battles fought through countless years. Let’s honor her with more than words, A life of justice, not just heard. No more of gods in stories told, No more of myths that make hearts cold. Justice lived in the daylight’s truth, In every act, in every youth. For every woman, every soul, Her rights should be her only goal. In everyday, let fairness thrive, In truth and action, let her live. ©twisha ray "