i am not invincible -
i cry, i bleed, i hold the delicate
balance of sanity in the palm
of my hand
until you crushed it

under your scruntiny, i wither
away - leaving behind the empty
husk of a life spent pleasing
everyone but myself

but that was what i chose,
what i wanted, to make things better
than the way i found them -
the stars in my eyes
were bright when i began

my fragile body lies bleeding,
spent under the heel of your
proverbial boot - the scales tipped
towards your favor

i am nothing when you are done with me
but a translucent piece of reality

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Slyphian, in the year 142 MA.