I want to drop out

the sun’s glowing, yet i feel blue. lying on the floor with sight of nothing but a monochrome hue. in the corner, there she was: a spectre of the girl who once stood tall, unyielding no matter the storm.

now she’s a husk, eyes emptied, haunted by my own reflection, a wraith i can no longer save. what once shining now has glim; desperately trying to keep what once beam. is it desperation, or just the brink of cease? can it be called such when i’m teetering on the edge of release? 

though ironically, i’m still glowing albeit dim; not to thrive, but merely to survive