Calloused

Calloused. My armor's not what it used to be, scratched and dented the outside resembles what's within. I've spent so much time staring back at myself if the boy I was saw the man i've become he'd spit right in his face. The scales have tipped against me one more time, but the panic comes in a hush and a sigh not a scream or cry. The scales have tipped against me for their final time. I've wasted so much time, waiting for a tragedy or a miracle to reveal itself that the world has passed me by. Convinced myself that I'm sick for so long now that i'm not sure I can stop believing it. Gotta lift my head from these calloused hands that serve to remind me of my regrets.

Gotta lift my head from these calloused hands So I can see the good in whats goin on. Don't want to waste anymore ink on this page or strokes of the keys, not one more hammer to spell out this quiet rage. No, my armors not what it used to be, but what in life still is? Calloused