The People's Daughter

This villanelle was written for our Creative Writing class.

The people are calling me now, mother.
Do not shed oceans for me: tears or bile.
I must go; I am the people's daughter.

Mother, I am no longer the butter
Long ago, you melt with your hands so vile
The people are calling me now, mother.

I have learned to look up from the gutter,
To veer away from the well-traversed mile.
I must go; I am the people's daughter.

Bullets piercing my body: I prefer
Than seeing this wasteland, once so fertile
The people are calling me now, mother.

Mother, in this cause, I will not falter
Against the unjust system, I will rile.
I must go; I am the people's daughter.

As long as tyranny exists, mother,
In this land, I am always an exile.
The people are calling me now, mother.
I must go; I am the people's daughter.