Could it be that the sum of twisted experiences
culminate in the ultimate self-sacrifice?
When cords, those tenuous threads, that tie
reality and perception together
a broken mind resists
strangling tacit explanations
as voices scream down every corridor
She prefers to embrace anarchy as
even simple beauty is
swallowed by inky blackness
Why else would there be
a meadow of beautiful flowers
growing in this concrete cell?
Awareness and acceptance of this world
are requirements that for her
cease to exist