Flesh

My nails

are jagged, blood rushing thin

behind rough and
ragged, red

adorns the crumbling armor and fate

never had a chance.

Clumsily they grapple
like there is no railway

of spindly veins that drive,

no pulsing
Throb
to throw them life and
lost.
They are hopelessly
Lost endlessly
Lost vividly, wildly, stunningly falling
Short. 

They sit on the edge and prod and wait and crack and heal and they are
Hard…but always

Behind

The crimson façade, the

Fearless shield

Of scarring claws

…Is
Flesh.