You don't know me.
I died years ago.
I was burned for my strength,
I was hung for my beliefs,
I was shot to silence my voice,
You don't know me.

What lies inside my soul,
are the souls of every woman,
who has died, who has suffered,
at the will of other men,
for their beliefs, for their ideas,
for their strength.

Inside my soul,
lives the heart of
the woman who remained seated,
of the phenomenal woman,
of the suffragette,
of the martyr.

You don't know me,
because you don't know them.
Though you beat me down,
I am strong.
Though you silence my voice,
I will be heard.
Though you take away my rights,
I will gain freedom.
And though you try and kill me,
I will live forever,
in the hearts of those who come next.