I.
Am.
Cracking.

My speech, once proud and confident
Has now fallen to glass shards on blackened concrete.

My eyes, once sure and smooth
Are now like a defective camera with a defiant lens.

My fingers feel like they could stand on their own and march out of their sockets like a parade.

Not a day goes by now
That I refrain from twitching to cope with feeling overwhelmed.

My soul is cracking.