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