roar the rockstar death age

my claws are pathetically weak.
i've resigned to the fact
i will never be able
to use in public
with confidence
and success.
i therefore
for sure
am not to be useful.

not trying to reach
or clasp
or grip
or grasp
or feel
or wave
or poke
or give
a middle finger up
to funny friends
or annoying people i don't know.

my claw got RSI and i was told he had to die.
they chopped him off
from the tip of the bone
and exposing the nerves to the air
i have now a stump
for a hand
a stump
for a heart
sharp pain in my
fang

no i'm not crying
there's some rubbish in my eye
without a hand or claw or pokey
i cannot pry it out and wipe it dry.

i curl up in a ball and swim in my eye water
and pretend i'm somewhere hotter
where the loss of moisture leads to death.

but alas i want to be here.
even if clawless
even if empty handed
or not-handed-at-all.

pass me a peach.
straight in my mouth.
papaya is the ancient fruit
but i am modern now
no claw. no claw. no claw.