Her ghost told me it wasn’t her choice

Like an unfinished symphony
You broke away with pains
After a long night of sleep
A choice not many would make.

When you were in a battle for your life
There was no inkling that misfortune
Would call on us to note
Only a few hours hastened past
You were on the steps of the mortuary
But we came too late, sighing

Do you part forever or so?
What demons drove you thither?
Was it a relief, this death,
To free yourself from this troubled earth?

I would have admonished you
Despite my silted tongue
Had you not hidden your plans
Behind an agitated smile.

This is all hot, feeling the heat
Of a strangled song dripping
Between the singer and a lonely figure
As when I say let thunder strike!

Instead they call me a literary  contortionist
Who knows best to make painful poem long
And they listen not to my ululation