She gazed as the sun retreated
Behind the distant mountains
Revived scars, her will power defeated
Little, if not none, remains

The steam rises up hugging her frame
Highlighting distanced, painful, memories
Door locked in fear and shame
But it won’t keep out her worst enemies

Trying to affirm that she could
Grabbing the knife with vitality
Crying an ominous red flood
The river of the misunderstood

Her intentions are altruistic
In her mind it's the sane option
Sadness that defies mystic
Impotent to endure the internal corruption

Not a matter of Life and Death
Like a star she's already gone
Sempiternal and bereft
Promise-less like a ghost of the dawn

One last breath she immerses herself in the water
It's not suicide it's exhumation
The minimal butterfly paid homage at the alter
Not her swan song but a ballad of elation