A shell of what you used to be.

My mind is blank,

a white and decadent pink. 

The mind is what opens up thoughts,

the ones that dictate choice and soul.

But when no channel is playing,

and no sound in ensuing,

and everything seems devoid of anything, 

you are nothing anymore. 

This is what you've become;

what you have grown to be.

This is what you can't seem to escape,

mentality in its finest.

This is what you hope is nothing more than a dream;

a sweet, awful nightmare at that.

But when you look in the mirror,

what is it that you see?

A shell of what you used to be.