Bloody Knuckles

Bloody knuckles Are all that remain Of what I use to be. Torn skin, Scars and scabs, Memories and Reminders. Of a time when I was young And without ambition Or caution. Running through green forests With friends chasing behind. A root, I trip, And my fingers collide with the dirt. The soil stings my Bloody knuckles. Bloody knuckles Are all that remain Of what I use to be. Torn skin, Scars and scabs, Memories and Reminders. I majored in Political Science, But couldn't make the grade. My effort fell short And I fell into bad habits. Days and nights Spent alone. Helpless And at the same time Overwhelmed. Too much to drink, I throw a punch And the soft cheek of a stranger runs into my Bloody knuckles Bloody knuckles Are all that remain Of what I use to be. Torn skin, Scars and scabs, Memories and Reminders. I changed My ways, My life. I was better, But not much. A few local fights For local cash And local bragging rights. Then a few local wins And a few wins Far from home. Oh how things had changed. No longer did my fist collide with the face of The poor and angry; Now the skin of champions Caressed and slammed my Bloody knuckles. Bloody knuckles Are all that remain Of what I use to be. Torn skin, Scars and scabs, Memories and Reminders. Now I sit In a creaking chair Alone once again. If I had family they would visit me, If I had friends they would call. But I remain shut out And fading fast. No longer can I remember my girlfriends Or the places I went And the things I did. The only things I hold on to Is the memories tied onto My wrinkly old hands And my Bloody knuckles Bloody knuckles Are all that remain Of me.