it’s a strange thing
to witness
the slow-
motion falling apart
of the last
respectable pieces
of yourself
and when you blink again
the mirror
of self-
reflection shows a ghost
a shadow
a shell
the person
you once were
could still be
gone
and perhaps
never to appear
in bright-
splendid color
ever again.
it’s sad.
depressing.
almost unbearable.
33 year old writer and poet from Bredasdorp, South Africa