A young woman walks alone,

Wishing the end of her days.

She slumps along the sidewalk,

Her eyes still and glazed.

The woman is no yet dead,

But she’s mourned herself for years,

Already picturing flies in her head,

She travels with no tears.

She has burned over and over,

But she can feel no pain.

She blankly wonders sober,

Only static in her brain.

She used to feel frightened, lonely and betrayed,

She dreamt of days of rescue,

But no one came to aid.

She hurts no more, she loves no more,

But sings a woeful tune,

Hoping that her passing will be coming soon.

She finally accepted the dark path she’d been led.

A walking corpse with no remorse,

Breathing but already dead.