Her auburn hair once like fire

The color of rust

The once fine emerald suit

Now drained to a lesser shade of grass

Her once smooth skin

Cracked with age and the grooves filled with dust

Her eyes have been stolen

Her smile is now cut into her skin

The flesh no longer glows with rosy hues

But seeps with the inky shades of midnight

She hangs limply from the attic rafters

I wonder if she put herself there

And why