Callouses

The anger burns inside,
eating its way from the inside out,
and I can’t explain this feeling to you.
You’d have to feel it for yourself.
Have you ever felt this pain?
Can you relate?
I’ve beat and bent my will to live,
and now there’s nothing left…
nothing left for me to give,
and now I’m fucking stuck.
I’ve beat and bent my will to live,
and now there’s nothing left,
nothing left for me to give,
and I have not forgot
that he did this to himself.
A hidden secret he holds
closer than his closest friends.
Deep within a broken heart
an empty feeling exists,
trying to cope with something
that cannot be fixed.
And he’s so sick of speaking
in the third person.
I think it’s time to start
looking forward to the future.
I’m way to deep inside my head
to speak what’s on my mind,
I think it’s time to recognize.
I’ve beat and bent my will to live,
and but there’s still something left…
something left for me to give,
and I have not forgot
there’s more to life
than to sit right here and rot…
I’m fucking done.
I jot the final pages down,
the ending to this chapter,
turn the page and start again.
Pencil calluses on my hands,
wall scrapes on my fists,
I leave it all behind,
and it will not be missed.