Spirit in the wind

She sits there in a corner,
Cutting at her wrist,
Looking for a way out,
To be free of her mortal hell.
Each cut resembles a person,
Who has caused her deep harm.
Blood seeps from the wound,
As her tears fall from her cheek.
Her screams grow louder,
But her cuts are not the reason.
The pain in which her heart has endured,
Makes her scream in agony.
The physical wounds are nothing,
Compared to the emotional pain,
In which her past has cruely inflicted.
Her mind and her heart is broken,
There is nothing left of her anymore.
She drives her blade into her chest,
And wait for death to decend upon her.
In a pool of her own blood,
She dies, releasing her spirit into the wind,
And finally able to rest in the peace,
She longed for.