I am such a shell
A fractured piece as well
Of who I used to be
Used to feel and used to see
I am such a mess
A melted version, less
Than the person I once was
What I thought I’d become
I can’t even love
Anything I used to love
Without leaning on a crutch
Something new to pick me up
Even my most beloved things
Have since grown up and grown wings
And flown beyond my grasp
Leaving me to finish last
It feels like I can’t enjoy anything anymore without some kind of chemical pick me up. Nothing is fun, nothing is good, not without help: