Morphine

She melted the shackles of iron,

Just to breathe.

She mended the manacles,

Allowed them to scrape her skin.

She hammered the coop,

She allowed the ivy to grow on her,

To fill her with poison, 

With spite.

She turned cold,

She turned inhumane,

She was filled with adversity, 

She wanted it to end.

She took a purple flower,

Rested it on her coffin and engraved,

“Lived her life to the fullest”

She lived her lie.

She reflected her lie.

And drank a sip of morphine to dance her insanity away..

--- Stoic Writer