Talented; in all her artistic endeavors,
Overlooked; by everyone around here,
Hopeful; until the end.

Drowning in her dearest despair,
Lost in her lonely life,
Sinking in her somber suppositions.

Sanity began to flee,
When she she firsted grasped the blade,
Creating crimson trails across her wrist.

Isolation never served her well, 
Imprisoned in her abundant life,
Now saturated with scarlet.

I bid farewell to part of me,
The better half,
Now buried in filth,
Never to be tarnished.