The Golden Years

The Golden Years
So you stare in disgust at the face in the mirror
Bloodshot, your eyes are hazy
And the mist from the shower
Doesn't hide your neck sagging onto your bare chest
You look down but you can't see the floor,
Only thick white, flesh.
Liver spots texturise,
And you can feel it dying too.
Every drink, every step brings you closer to the sun.

You rest on a crutch, never wanting to walk
You'd rather crawl, rather slither across the floor
You stare in disgust at the face in the mirror
Cursing life for being so unfair,
You bought it all, the lies, the freedom,
Everything had a price and you paid
The sun is setting, and you are sinking,
You are broken your flesh is diseased,
And your bones are brittle
And you still don't understand, that you lived a lie?