There was an ocean in her head,
and dreams in her eyes.
Took no more
than few tears
from the loved ones,

to empty that dream,
and give up on the ocean.

The harder she worked,
the deeper she fell.

As a young bud,
like the smallest plant
she was forced to face
the darkest storms.

But that didn't scare her,
the tale that followed
after, broke her.

Losing loved ones,
not to death.
But to her dreams,
to the stories she wanted to tell.

She chose to live,
over being alive.
She chose to fly
with the wings of vision.

That was her only mistake.

The more she dreamt,
the more she lived.

The more she lived,
the more she fought.

Dreamer by day.
Warrior by night.

Bravest of warriors, she was.
Fought the hardest battle
in silence.

There was power.
There was dream.
And a brave story.
But now all that remains of her,
are her words.

Her heart once filled with passion,
now absorbed in pain.

The raging fire
that burnt,
now curtailed
to a dying flame.

Pain won the battle.
For she couldn't feel
anything, anymore.

Couldn't tell apart
from what was living and
not dying was.

Cried her way
to what was considered the end.

The world bawled
next morning.
For she had not lost,
the world had lost her.

The skies cried and the clouds groaned in menace.

The morning disguised as night.

The darkest,
such a day it was.