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The Gaze

I gaze into these hollow, worn-out

Eyes trapped in this faded face.

Reflected at me through

A grimy, smear-stained mirror

These calloused hands so far removed

From the soft touch of yesterday

The corners of these lips turn downwards

In a disapproving frown

My neck unadorned

Tresses of knotted, mangy hair fall

To my drooping shoulders

A once proud form now disheveled

Frantically looking to the horrors of

An unknown future and

Longing for the warmth of a kinder time

The beauty of youth has taken wing

Seeking greener pastures

The color has all but dried up

I ask myself would you still choose me now

As I am, the person I’ve become


Melancholia


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