She`s Free Poem by Raynolds Moseamedi

Do n't say that!
It wasn't a piece of broken glass
Nor was it the paws of her old black cat
Don't say it like she was just a mess
Her blood found the rails of pain
In the cold of her hands,
And her palms found comfort on the ground she lay
What she did was sane and humane
She was tired and chained her life her own misery
So virtue became too much for her alone to bear,
In our fantasies we h've all felt the fire
Some became the flames and sought external care
Some found the flames with a wanderlust desire
And became the fire
But she sought to burn to bleed out her life force
Till all that was burning inside burns no more
So she reached above her mind to slit a seed
Held high her hands
With a piece of glass that unseen by any of her figments before
Startled and shocked her mind acted on impulse
An art so remarkably unsight on the room floor
The canvas,
Her blood the red paint
In the moment of her struggles her hands were the brush
She painted her pain.
...
I found her not alive but dead
But her smile on her pale lifeless face
told a tale of eternal liberation.