deepundergroundpoetry.com

Her Last Breath

Sunshine shimmers upon her expressionless face.
Her beauty cloaks her crumbling, pained conscience.
In a sea of disguise, she smiles:
A lie to all who've come to gawk at her perfection.
If they only knew her charade,
She may have been saved,
But her pride was too strong to admit to her slowly sinking, quickly drowning, low self-esteem.
As her esteem plummeted and spiraled downwards,
Her self-hatred rose up and conquered her.
She thought not about those who loved, envied, and loathed her limitlessly.
She was her one and only critic,
A sole diminisher of her once-euphoric empire of a mind.
It�s an uncomprehendable thought that someone so idolized for her unparalleled beauty could feel so torturously flawed.
Why had her own mind turned and become a traitor to her ever-appealing self.
She�s held but one secret her entire life,
Never letting a single murmur of her disconcerting thoughts escape her sought-after lips,
Being left in the air to be snatched up like a gaudy treasure by someone obviously unable to support its weight.
She couldn�t tell a soul if she wanted to.
It would only lead to an excess of misery,
So she camouflaged herself in comeliness and portrayed nothing but pulchritude to advert attention from her pained past.
She did not want peering eyes protruding into her not-so-peaceful cloud of a memory.
She wanted not to alarm her peers and cause them to pry at her invisible shield held in place by her unflawed countenance.
She wanted to avoid having to answer to their questions,
Concern displayed with absolute certainty on their faces and weary, trembling voices are left reticent.
They can�t quite say what, exactly, their hearts full of trepidation,
Would like to put out into the open.
No, she wanted not to cause any kind of concern for herself.
She had never wanted to be the center of anybody�s pity.
She told herself she could handle it all by her lonesome.
She didn�t advertise a welcome for any sort of help.
Instead, she drowned herself, independently, in her sorrows until the sadness filled her lungs and dropped a weight upon her chest,
Suppressing her breath from escaping her body and knocking her off her feet,
Leaving her to convulse sporadically on the floor,
Surrounded by a pool of her own ichor,
Oozing from her veins,
Leaving nothing but empty, aching despondency in its place.
Despite all the chaos unfolding,
She went down with a smile covering her gorgeous face,
Framed by a cascading curtain of sweaty, crimson-tinted hair.
She finally felt the peace she had sought after for so many blinded days and sleepless nights.
Her smile had finally held the truth for the first time in what felt like ages.
She looked more breath-taking than ever before even though her eyes were glistening with the glaze of death and she was lying in a putrid pool of her own blood.
The second she took that leap,
She had no doubt in her crazy, disoriented mind that it was the best choice she had ever made in her too-short, miserable life.
She had finally found her happiness.
She had finally found herself.