Self Portrait

Dying. Dying to get out to find a way to escape Dying to find solace Wondering if I have a prepackaged fate Staying so long that the face in the mirror has changed Shifted and transformed from the beautiful, young, naïve siren into A tired, worn, blurry, desolate image of herself So pathetic it could be taken as a facade Amusingly, I find myself tilting over the edge But it seems that there is one thing keeping me near the ledge Contemplating the destruction, demise of a self portrait now despised It's like I'm opening my eyes But all at the wrong time Too late to live life 'Tis much too late to change that horrid past of mine Especially while I'm walking that thin line between Life and Death Love and Hate And chances to rewind fate Just to see my original face Go back to what were the illusions of happy days To see the vibrant glow in my eyes Before it faded and died The glow of my skin Before it grew wary, dull, and thin The bounce in my step Before I dragged and slid It seems that all I have in this time of distress Is to wonder aloud and cry Yet, I tend to ask the question why Why does life's happiness seem to shimmer and fade? Like a broken color TV, turning a sullen gray? Why has my life disappeared? Like a piece of paper covered and hidden in a cluttered household den? Why haven't I decided to walk away? I guess the delusion of happiness stayed in the way