Hero

Veronica was ill. Eyes weak, she tried hard to keep them open.
Sleep-deprived for a week, it was clear she was broken.
Alone in a room, with neighbours for company,
And few friends from work,
And a dead sister called Stephanie-
Whose portrait hung from a wall opposite;
But wait, it hasn’t been dusted for long, is it?
Who cares anyway, when solitude creeps upon you;
One in a million crop up, in the end very few.
Injected through her veins, she could barely stand,
But today she should get up, and try it one last time.
In the end, it’s the efforts that matter, not a shame if she fails.
She does, and stands in front of her sister,
Staring at eternity, waiting.
The crowds recede, day by day;
Sympathies fade, not meant to stay.
When the time comes, she knows when,
She will do it, no matter then.
One final look later, she screams aloud,
The community awakes, their sleep broken.
Back home, the young sister lies on the floor,
Eyes wide open, staring at the door;
Dead by choice, forced by lust, betrayed by trust, violated by faith,
Who cares what she has been through,
Everyone is a hero when death becomes true.
The grave welcomed with open arms,
For once she felt safe while alone.

Far away beyond our reach, two sisters meet and share stories.
They chose to forget one.