My heart has stopped beating.
My stomach has sunken in.
My eyes they see everything, yet they take nothing in.
My nails have grown shorter.
My hair stands on its end.
My breasts no longer supple, but coarse and worn away.
My hands try to caress, yet fumble below the surface.
My feet they stay routed, they will not leave the house.
My head is slowly drowning, yet no one pulls me out.
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