as she trudged up the mountain
^
/ \
/ \
/ \
/ \
victory pulsing through her veins
badum badum badum badum
her eyes set intently on the peak
a deathly stare
she knew she could do anything
anything at all
she was anything but meek
this world is not for the meek
The line “this world is not from the meek” I took from a poem I wrote last school year called “Story of a Lonely Bird”.