Lucie Tambora's "Ruined" is a poem of harsh self-judgment. The speaker imagines fighting the Sun, knowing they would lose, yet feeling content to be burnt whole, because at least the defeat would come from their own will. The real enemy, though, is the speaker. They call themselves fallen and crestfallen, admit they have only themselves to blame, and say the shame never washes away. Comparing themselves to a shooting star, they feel small and unimportant, something that flares and drops.
In the second stanza the speaker turns to their own soul and gives it a "simple role": to get through this phase. There is no room for dreaming or wishing. The tone is stern, almost like a self-given order. Still, the last two lines leave a thread of hope: the end is near "unless I change right now," and this time keep the vow. The mood is regretful and tense, but not fully hopeless.