What happens to me?

She tried to fight them off, the voices in her head, But the echoes of the past filled her heart with dread. The scars on her skin weren't just from the fall, They were monuments of battles where she gave her all. The PTSD tapes kept rewinding in her mind, Flashing scenes of trauma she desperately tried to leave behind. Each step forward was a tripwire set to blow, Sending her spiraling back to the deepest undertow. The sweet release whispered, a siren song so deep, Promising oblivion, a final, dreamless sleep. The razor's edge felt like the only clear relief, A moment's stark control over overwhelming grief. And the bottle, the pill, the familiar numbing haze, Became the broken lighthouse in these storm-tossed days. She traded pain for poison, a temporary truce, Anything to quiet the screaming, to cut the wire loose. Every sunrise was a debt she couldn't pay, A fresh reminder that she had to face another day. She looks at her reflection, and she barely knows the face, Just a stranger haunted, lost without a trace. She's running on empty, the engine starting to seize, Praying for a surrender that finally brings her peace. The little girl is gone, swallowed by the war, And now there's only silence where the light was before.