Where is she,
the ‘me’ I used to be?
Fading, shredding, wafting free
in ragged pieces, desperately
spinning, shrinking, hard to see.
Pretending, as things become less clear,
that nothing’s wrong, I am still here.
Inside I sigh
and tell physicians passing by
‘I’m not the same, although I try,
I’m crawling where I used to fly.’
The truth is hid in their reply
– ‘few treatment options for a brain’
I know I can’t be ‘me’ again.
