Foundation - Calloused

My armor ain't what it used to be, scratched and dented the exterior begins to resemble what's within. I've spent a lot of time staring back at myself and I think if the boy I was could see 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, waiting for a tradgedy 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 believeing it. Gotta lift my head from the calloused hands that serve to remind me of my regrets. 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 of the letter to spell out this quiet rage. No, my armors not what it used to be, but what in this life still is?