Some some sort of Semblance

Holding onto some Semblance,
of my former self.
Once so happy,
now teetering on the shelf.

I hold my sides,
as if I'll explode,
screaming and aching,
wanting to implode.

If only I was perfect,
in every freaking way,
no longer a prisoner,
to existence' cruel way.

Talk me down,
take my hand,
lead me back,
to semblance' land.