There comes a moment when enough is enough and it’s time to call a truce
So you perform a swift and decisive full stop right in the middle of your very acceptable life.
After laying down the blood-stained armor and removing the knives from your back, you tend to the self-inflicted wounds.
This takes awhile for there are many.
Spent, you lie down to rest in a soft field of clover while the sun warms your hair.
When you awaken from the very long dream, the bees gift you with a crown - and some honey, of course - and you loudly declare yourself The Queen of Your Own Damn Universe.
You rise, stretch, breathe, and wait.
You listen and take the first step toward home.