What is this hard, jagged thing on my face?
Was it there before? Or was I someone else?
Maybe a piece came off.
A rip.
A tear.
A wanton thread stripped down my head,
or a constant reminder of the worst of me.
Dead skin furrows, folds of limp muscle and severed sinew.
A lumpy, cackling weight pressing into a blind eye.
Swollen.
Heavy.
Dragging.
Pulling me into my hands.
Knees.
Defeated.
Homely.
Shattered.
Ugly.