Daze of Write

My life has become a welcome mat to misery and pain.
Happiness flows away from me, like water down a drain.
I have become a filter holding nothing but rust.
Like an unbeaten rug, consuming nothing but dirt and dust.
I am an unwashed shelf, accumulating nothing but grime.
I am a shell of a man doing his time.
I am a reflection of whom I used to be.
Who I am now remains a mystery.