Fragile, grim, ghostly, ethereal...
I am certainly not wholly who I once was.
My once rotund smile has become gaunt
And tangled up. It no longer fires right,
Flashes passersby, or gleams with love.
Alas, I fear it is broken beyond
What I as a meek and lowly man could do
To repair its once glorious state.
And my eyes!
Oh, my poor, dull eyes. Once,
They lit up at a mere mention of mischief--
Or you--
But now, they turn downward and dazzle none,
Holding all of their gleam selfishly back.
What has happened to my once-tender words?
Are they forever cursed to be cold and uncaring?
Apathy? I knew not the meaning of the word!
And now, it has come to define my presence.
Fragile, indeed! Broken. Wispy.
Dying.
I am but a shell of my former self...
And I blame it entirely upon
What I allowed myself to leave behind,
And who I let myself become.
--C.R.E.
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