It isn't easy to be me, a mummified version of invisibility. To see all those souls- walking free. And what do I see? I am enslaved anymore. I am not able to find a cure. Depression exists from inside at the core. Loneliness- is it's own devil. It kills on more than just one level. It feels like there is no reason- to just be me. In the mirror- I see, my own reflection. No perfection. Just a lifeless zombie.