The face was so, familiar,
Yet somehow different.
It was, how you say?
All used up, each line
Etched so deep that they
Screamed of pain endured,
Of suffering so personal
That the story can never
Be told.
Eyes blank in defensive emptyness
As if too much has been witnessed
Too much absorbed.
The face, so familiar, turned
The nerves cold with fear and loathing
Until, unable to endure anymore
Turned away from its own reflection.