Just a pretty face

In rooms of suits and polished steel,

Where numbers dance, and deals are sealed,

She walks a path both sharp and steep,

Her dreams a burden, dreams to keep.

A whisper soft, yet loud it rings,

"She's just a face," the echo sings,

Her mind, a diamond, sharp and bright,

Yet shadows cast, obscures its light.

She stands among the titans tall,

Their glances quick, she feels so small,

Her ideas clear, with genius hue,

Dismissed as folly, nothing new.

To prove her worth, a daily fight,

Perfection sought, both day and night,

Her striving heart, it bears the strain,

In silence, swallowed, choked with pain.

The smartest one, yet must disguise,

Her wisdom doused, in wary eyes,

For envy lurks in mirrored gaze,

Her glow, diminished, by their haze.

When help is sought, a door is slammed,

“Figure it out,” their cold command,

No resources, no open hand,

Just broken roads of sinking sand.

In corridors where judgments freeze,

She battles on, with silent pleas,

A quest for equal standing ground,

In walls where bias still resounds.