Callous
Rough
Blistered fingers
Winding down the slide
Fingernails are long and round
Nothing left to hide
The ache within the
Whining bones
Clutched between the muscle
A chord is struck
With false bravado
Never one to hustle
Mussel
Clamming up
Within a shell
Of anguished
Petty
Grief
A lying bastard
Lies within
A rugged leather sheath
So with the wig of hell in heads
Ill wear you like a wreath...