Beige walls stand empty where original artworks once hung
A woman, beyond her years in mind and body, sits at her desk
Staring at a screen that, despite vast knowledge at her fingertips
Is empty
The cloud of cognizance that enveloped her has cleared
Ridiculed by those she trusted
"Over medicated"
No more pills
No more gange
Nothing to help control the demons within her mind
There is no feeling of motivation
No curiousity
No imagination
Only reality; the harsh and cold reality
Rusty elbows create groans 
Knees crackle, or is that the fire in the fireplace?
There is no relief for her chronic pain
Not anymore
There is no singing left within her
No more music for it hurts too much to listen
No more art for she cannot bring herself to create
Camera dusty, paints dried, cheeks sunken, yarn put away, body whithering

She gave up

Why bother

You did.