It's never too late,

I always told myself,

I can always fix this,

But I couldn't fix it this time,

Poor little me,

Watch as I pity myself,

For another time around,

I've reassured others,

As I was reassuring myself,

That everything would be okay,

That I would make it all alright,

But I didn't this time,

Looks like I messed up bad,

Oops not again,

Here come the tears,

These horried,

Self-pitying tears,

Everytime they roll down my face,

I feel as if they scream 'why me?',

Self-pity I have never been fond of,

Yet here I am,

The quintessential,

Of the self-pitier,

Sitting alone,

In a dirty room,

With the t.v on and the radio loud,

Not hearing,

Not seeing,

Only thinking,

Within the deep confines,

Of my blood and dirt-stained mind,

'Why me?' 'Why me?',

Finding myself in the bounds of self-pity,

I pity myself more for it,

And a vicious cycle continues,

Because I thought,

I can fix this,

I will make it alright,

It's never too late,

But this time it was.