She’s quivering as she stands by the water,
overhearing the gunshots from the smoking city.
There are rivers of blood running from veins
into the trenches of the cobblestone streets.
The enemy is strong; Victoria is standing tall,
her ill-fed shoulders protruding like armour
that is as heavy as the weights on her heels.
The rebels’ breath puffs out like mythical creatures’.
It is a romantic quest for liberty.
The water is cold as Victoria delves in.
She is immersed in every battle all at once.
She can no longer hear the gunshots or the outcries.
Just her beating heart.
The final screams that no one else can hear.
It is ending slowly.
And the battle is won.
The final gunshot.