There she rests,
better yet,
her life's leaking.
She, the broken winged
being of a chemical bath,
never meant
to last long,
ponders her past when

violet light spears out of the black
night in a radial burst, orbs
of blue, white, and pink,
dance in collusion,

and calls her, as she's called to doom,
so many before her.

Within the oval shape casting there,
she beheld blood somewhere else,
pumping through gates,
coursing through veins.

With a muster of her final strength,
she fell from the rock and into the waters.
Pulling and pulling,
closer and closer.