you’re standing in front of the mirror
that’s still foggy from the steam from the shower

that’s been running for almost 48 minutes
and you can’t seem to pull away

your hair’s unwashed and your skin is sickly and pale
you can’t even look yourself in the eye

you run your hands down your face
feeling the bruising around your eyes

you run your hands down your throat
feeling the burns the rope left behind

you run your hands down your chest
feeling the skin that will never look the same as before

you run your hands down your legs
feeling the ghosts of hands clawing at you

when you look back into the mirror
you don’t recognise the woman staring back

you're the empty shell of a woman
who lost the war