Standing before the mirror
really starin’ back.
Can’t say I recognize
the girl that’s staring back.
When was it
that I became so weak?
When did I
start running scared?
When did those bags
rest beneath my eyes?
When did I
lose all that weight?
There are bruises
all along my arms
and some upon my face.
My skin looks sallow.
My face, withdrawn.
My curves are gone,
and left in their place
is only flesh and bone.
When did I
become so tired?
When did the light
decide to leave my eyes?
I stand before the mirror
and have no idea
when I became
a stranger staring back.

Prompt: Beaten


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