The rib

It actually is her fault.
Her hobbies of dreary long reading incomparable to her thrill seeking, violent, seething, inspiring counterpart, better part. Her predisposition to nurturing rather than hustle and conquer a synonym of laziness. The emotions she feels wild and irrational fables compared to the calm, cold, thoughts behind the gaze of the others.
Seeming so sure of themselves, but she would not ever really know, never fully comprehend. How could she? How could a bone, disembodied from the whole person, the right person, the image of God, ever understand. How could she ever bear the weight of being chosen? Surely a fraction of a person could never.
Unfortunately, born that way: a rib.