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