Sonnet For The End Of A Sequence

So take my vows and scatter them to sea; Who swears the sweetest is no more than human. And say no kinder words than these of me: "Ever she longed for peace, but was a woman! And thus they are, whose silly female dust Needs little enough to clutter it and bind it, Who meet a slanted gaze, and ever must Go build themselves a soul to dwell behind it." For now I am my own again, my friend! This scar but points the whiteness of my breast; This frenzy, like its betters, spins an end, And now I am my own. And that is best. Therefore, I am immeasurably grateful To you, for proving shallow, false, and hateful.