The invisible years, they arrive after menopause
You'll see.  It will happen to you in time.
Left behind.  Left alone.
Now I wonder if I am imaginary?
The energy it drains, stepping through the day.
The Demon of loneliness demands attention.
I doubt my existence.  There is no one loving me.
There is no "love."
The cruel Magician of depression begins
disappearing me.
And I no longer care.  
I will crawl off this Earth alone.