Poetry in Spoken Word by Tracy Kocsis - HTML preview

CALLOUSED

Never have I felt so much pain.

Can you see the aching of my bones?

Or the nerves of my soul?

My skin has eroded, awash with toxins-

Just like my calloused hands.

Cursed days, you call them a blessing.

But my spirit is frayed.

The skin on my back-

Like a leather-hyde.

I hunger and I thirst,

Still no reprieve.

There seems to be no end

To my suffering,

No comfort when I bleed-