he gazed at his reflection
the visage of death
hanging over
his image
empty of worth
depression so heavy
his body ached with the weight
desire to reach out
to touch another
and be touched in return
dominated his existence
he touched up each crevice
with makeup
and gold
but nothing could hide
the scars of abuse
the damage
ugly scars
no hiding the filth
or shame
but to walk away
or even just turn
would remove from vision
the one friend
that remained true
and the man in the mirror
agreed