Tatters

I eek out a living among the tatters of my former self,
the personality I once clothed myself in
It is shelfed carefully alongside the no longer needed alarm clock
set before dawn so I may be among the first to greet the new suns rays
And here I sit day after day
Awaiting I know not what
as I watch expectation shadow flicker off and on my darkened walls
But I know it will not be found here among the still drying toothpaste smears flecked in my clogged sink
Or dust of opportunites not taken that coat my diplomas tucked safely away from my regret-A snapshot of youthful eager days gone bye
I lay sandwhiched in transition between what once was and what will be
And all there is, is me