Everyone wanted a piece of me, and at first I was glad to give it.
But now there is little left to give and I am only a fragment of the person I was.
I hold in my hand what is left of my being.
The refection I see is incomplete, raw edges that slice away at life, an eye once alive with mischief and hope sinks into the mournful face of a stranger.
There is no longer colour, vitality or brightness, just the grey and white of exhaustion.
Is this the end of the road?
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a person holding a piece of broken mirror in which their face is partially reflected.
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See 16th May