She stepped into her suit
it felt heavy against her skin
the rough cloth with puncturing thorns
hurt anybody who got too close
just the way she liked it

she looked around
a war camp filled with blood
and silent screamers
eyes wide as shattered vases
that was what she wanted
she slaughtered them all like fleeing prey
and a sob arose with the help of some force
the deed was already done
she would have to live with it
with the weight of the bodies she killed
with her own thorns

she had pushed them away
and now they would never return
the flower was far from withered
it had been cut to pieces
and no glue would fix it
she would have to live with it
with the weight of the bodies she killed
with her own thorns
until the end of times.