Sylvia, shaped into Esther’s soft frame,
Was looked upon as strong and quick with wit.
In truth, she walked along the edge insane,
With reading suicides to practice death.

To her, at twenty, ‘twas too old to live!
Eternal sleep within a tiny pill
Did try to grant her wish of death to give,
But her did it never seem fit to kill.

Insane they deemed her! Crazy to call for Death!
“Some shocking therapy!” the doctors said.
She filled with fear; body was sucked of breath.
The voices were too much in her poor head.

So she did just what any would have done:
She gave away her head to the oven.