Her

Her

She's full already at her home.

She talks sense, her parents say.

She behaves well, her teachers say.

She's eight, so am I.

She's too enough to be true.

She makes her friends understand life better.

She talks of ambition and heights to reach.

She's fifteen, so am I.

She's grown up to be smart.

She pays her bills just like that, threatening none.

She has the voice to oppose when something goes wrong.

She's twenty-three, so am I.

She's practically evolved human.

She decides for herself when to get pregnant or whether to get pregnant.

She decides for herself whom to be the father of her child or the other mother. 

She's thirty-two, so am I.

She's both fire and ice, society says.

She's got crazy tribe that wears red lipstick everywhere.

She's got a bunch of wolves which she backs up for the severe fights.

She's thirty-nine, so am I.

What let her be that?

What made me be this?

Her voice is loud.

My insecurities are louder.