My hands are hard and callous,
Veins swollen,
Skin's tight,
I can barely close my fist,
My fingers stiff and unaligned,
Each knuckle bares a scar,
From each tooth and chin I made contact with,
Arthritic, numb, & unapologetic,
Sore fists still swinging blows,
Although it hurts to use them...
Stubborn is the host,
And even if these hands are battered,
When I draw blood it's the moment I savor the most,
I'm quick to anger,
There is no cool off until a blood vessel is expanded,
I'm cold with malice,
These hands are calloused,
Don't **** with me if you ain't ready for the bleed