Walking backwards was never her forte. 
Her claim was, it would be much to disingenious, 
compared it to, living counter clock wise, 
and her youth would not advance her infinity. 
Man's freedom was hemorrhaging. 
With little conviction her femininity squandered into disguise. 
Worn-down nails firmly gripping the trigger. 
In pursuit for self-rule, yet anguished by her kind 
who coveted  plantation living. 
Functioning in animation was not her aim to imitate or become parallel, 
her aptitude was much to intense to commit the identical offense. 
Her audacity chipped away though the iron chains and Maryland lost her grip. 
So clever, she changed course. 
Her comrades road shot gun, special cargo hidden underneath the train. 
A forceful tongue gave them warning, 
if I catch you walking backwards,  
I'll certainly have to kill ya.