please, can someone understand me?

I feel like a snail
slowlly growing into herself
with horns degenerating
and becoming blind

It is inevitable that we must grow
and harden to the frequent blows
but the statue has its ways
and though wishing, it cannot change

I don't want to be myself anymore
I'm tired of what I've become
It's imperfect - break my mold
and please let me start once more

It takes a will to be a-life
a will to brave the whittling
but how I wish just to die away
and not mourn my own passing

Why am I so afraid?
More than death I fear life
the unforgiving resilience
that buries my being and 'I' become filling

It is not an evil deed
I plead some supernatural force
to take away the thickening knobs
so that my wrists may move freely

Run away
it's not my face
it's something else
a woman, not me.

I cannot cry off this soul
it has served me so well these 19 years
like trying to pick gold from stone
one dies, to have the other

Sometime I shall grow sane again
and forget these revelations.