Color Worn

I am colored with discontent,
lit up from head to toe,

like a disgruntled Christmas trees,
some bulbs working,
and some down for the count



My eyes were yellowed where they used to be blue,
my lips were blue where they used to be red,
my nose was red where it used to be pink,


nothing was as it should be,
not even my hands,
elderly by outward appearance,
but still itching to die young,

and at night,
even in the quiet of my room,
the pillow did not fit my face the way it once did

perhaps this was the discoloration they had alluded to once,
back then,

back when