By Shyann Cooks
She’s fading.
If it’s not the bags drowning her soul underneath those withering eyes,
It’s the heaviness of her breathing that gives it away.
Each day she loses a part of herself – her mind and her motivation –
Yet no one notices. Her plate is fuller than a Thanksgiving meal and yet she continues to refill – because someone has to do it – or die trying.
Her laugh is forced – mimicking a sob rather than a reaction of joy
She’s miserable – but all they see is perseverance
All they see is what she’s accomplished for them – and not for herself.
Pieces of her mind fall scattered on the pavement but no one bothers to clean up the mess.
Pieces of her soul are disappearing yet her shadow is still amusement for the masses.
