"A Face In The Crowd"

I don’t want to be another face in the crowd, insignificant to the rest, though I gave my best. At my lowest, fate struck me down— they tested my fortitude, and I crumbled like paper. Has my story ended? Hard to write on wrinkled pages, harder still when the ink has dried and the pen tip rusts in silence. A rough, unpaved road lies ahead, but every scar is still a line, every breath, a chance to write again.