My fingers slowly trace the outline of my face in the reflection of the tarnished mirror.

I notice each delicate curve, feature and the way my eyes look hollow. Deadness. I tighten my brows and look deeper, thinking just maybe I’d see something worth salvaging in my matted soul.

Dear God, please.

I close my eyes gently and take a deep breath. The exhale feels good and for a split second I feel a sense of hope. Then the memories return.

I’m nothing but a ragamuffin.

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