My breathing was shallow,
Lungs barely filled.
My eyes felt half closed,
Not a colour painted upon my world.
Never a smile, nor a smirk.
I forgot the ability.
*** felt like labour.
Unpaid,
I was the worst *******.
My sense of self,
Lost in all of the characters I had created.
Loveless,
His flaw was showing he loved too much.
His skin hardened,
Met only with closed fists.
A lover,
Turned fighter,
With nothing to show for his scars.
- Tré
A poem from a fractured mind