FREED VERSE

Buckle up, tough stuff! 
It's time to settle in.
Your skin is thick, your nails tough,
your knuckles' scars bleed red. 

But--

That bone-dry suit of armor? 
Trust, it has a kink. 
So roll your neck and sigh it out, 
'cause the walls are 'bout to sink!
Those hardened feet will be shaved down,
a pedicure for the soul, I think.
Soak, cut, file, lube--
for once, my love, let the oil ooze 
instead of falling for the callouses' ruse.