What’s Left Of Me

When I look into the mirror, I see myself aging. Rapidly. In one year, my hair has gone from hints to streaks of silver graying. It happened after I changed shampoos. People I meet just see me as me and my kid is afraid to hear my distress because they don’t want to get a phobia about aging. But they weren’t listening when I tried to explain what I was feeling. What I am seeing. Something has happened to me. And it got a jump start when my husbsnd left, I had a small stroke, and the Crone laughed as she attached to me that one day when I put on the pendant. The struggle to find and reclaim myself before time runs out is upon me. I have never been here before, and no one stands beside me. Who I am inside is under assault by external entropy. This isn’t aging. It is a spell that’s siphoning energy. Maybe it’s all of the stress that continues weighing. Maybe its the lack of rest while I keep striving to overcome the sense that I’m dying.