Her

She silently bleeds,

Bleeding thoughts,

Bleeding emotions, 

Bleeding sorrow,

Bleeding loneliness.

She patiently waits for the end,

Only wanting a bit of peace.

Wishing for happiness to send,

Good thoughts from any memories.

She cries for these good times, 

Times she wanted to have,

Times she tried to have.

Memories faulter as she goes black.

Finally conciousness deminishes.

Finally she was able to let go, 

but was it enough?

Was it worth it?

Will truth resound?

Does death truly end suffering?

I guess she found out.

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