What is my work worth really
Passion only plays on
What luck can fuel
To love something enough
Makes no promises or obligations

Inspired by the hope of the few
I get up and take a look in the mirror
I go to offer some words of encouragement
But my reflection hits harder than the words
In my control

They say that
A picture speaks a thousand words
The sun in my skin has faded
My hair flat and dull

How long have I been in my room
Watching
Trying to grow a heart strong enough to fight
Based on romanticized fiction
And achievable ideals
Where am I really
Standing here dripping
In hypocrisy
Who am I now
With crazed, shining eyes
Losing color through my tear ducts

I shift
In the puddle of paint
Crusting around my ankles
And pick at the flakes
That scale my jaw
It works like rusted machinery now
And no ones handling
The upkeep
For anything less than my very best

Depreciating and decaying
Every year
Until I pass as abstract art