The Broken

I can feel it on the inside like something vital snapped and the pieces of it have interrupted the processes of the other vital things forcing them to stop as well. This snap causes me to not feel the pain of the loss, but that's not good bcause that hurts just as bad as feeling it. Miraculously I can still function, but at what cost?
The cost is my fight that used to be ever present and now it has vanished, just gone. All that remains in its place is smoke and mirrors reflecting the normal and covering up the unforgivable. It brings me to wonder why can't people see what that thin layer of smoke is covering? Why can't they know that beneath that thin facade is a whole ocean of pain and confusion? Will they even notice that the spark that lit up my eyes has been put out? No they can't and they won't.
It will take ages, or maybe minutes, for someone to notice what I've lost. Sure they all know the outside loss of that one person who meant so much, but I doubt they will notice that the loss of him sparked the loss of my most importmant and most striking characteristic. My fight. For I am the broken.