Her mouth flooded with a metallic taste;
Her lips, with blood, soddened -
As she gasped the thin air that tried to escape,
All of a sudden.
Her world began to shake,
Her pupils began to broaden.
She had began to smile at her fate,
As soon as the bullet had gone in.
No, this was no mistake
This was the work of her soul, trodden.
She hoped they all saw and ached
At how they all had treated her rotten.
She thought, "it's never too late
to never again be forgotten."

But she never realized the stake
That her thoughts had wrought in.
This misguided emotional state,
Permanently set by the bullet she shot in.
Her twisted thoughts couldn't be straight,
Thanks to the pain that she had gotten.

Her death gave the pain an unlikely trait:
It became a virus that, in others, had now begotten.
Her troubles she would indeed abdicate
To those that loved her, as if by the push of a button.