Slowly I have noticed that
My days are spilling into one.
Colours started fading out
And now my sense of taste is gone.
Painted circles on my eyes,
From endless hours of restless sleep,
I wear them like a war paint,
My battle cry; a sullen weep.
Now it doesn’t hurt as much
As it has done for many years.
Creeping numbness took ahold
Now even death knows not my fears.