Overwrought

Dripping off the eave great drops elongated,
Echoing thoughts of the rainy day
And all I've saved to fill it with,
The cost I've paid to will it with
Years rolling by
Piled upon the pyre of decreased expectations
Until all the fire, the ire has been blunted
By the disappointment of one more promise unfulfilled.
I recognize you too, with all your glory one more lie within my story: story upon story,
And none alone have any significance,
Save for a life here and there snatched from the maw because of care I gave in my anonymous role.
And didn't I want it that way?
Days spent deprecatingly,
Breaking down my core bit by bit,
Turning me into this vestige of my former self,
An image I can claim no more,
No self I recognize, and certainly not one my lovelies care much for.
No! Now I'm just a hanger on, a pitiable charity case
Trotted out on special days, while
They, the "busy ones", have careers waiting.
Lines are growing long and heavy, measured with the drops now dripping from the eaves on this rainy day of days!
Once upon a time, when all was golden, we held promise, where did we grow old, how did it happen, how is it so, did we not know, or feel it go?
So, Rainy Day, what can one do?
Who are you when you are old and purpose gone?
Gold disbursed from sow's ear to gravestone!
Dreams amended I am changed!
And while my soul decries it, speaking to my callow youth, my life stands as it's own reproof that all will fall,
Although perhaps not to such decay, these morbid musings on a rainy day.