the rings on my fingers
one on each hand
they once were brand new
now they are bland
when i came from the shop
holding them in my palm
they gave me a sense
of brightness, of calm
i kept a keen eye
to not gain a scratch
i made sure to care
they are my life, i'm attached
around each index
they gleam and they shine
there was no complex
i claimed them as mine
but as time went by
nothing could prevent
keeping them safe
from every event
slowly but surely
they weather away
a scratch or a dent
peels the gleam away
i couldn't stop it
and nothing could
like the ropes in the binding
life slowly unwinding
my mind was derailing
my life began failing
my rings are now old
one is quite damaged
the other sub par
but some how they managed
to stay true to my heart
and not let me down
but whenever they ware
i have a frown
and just like the ring
i live in a cycle
periods of anguish followed by contempt
periods of anguish followed by contempt
periods of anguish followed by contempt
periods of anguish followed by contempt
but they are looking worse
they're falling apart
soon i'll take the curse
of a broken heart
and the worse that they get
the more that they take
and my worst fear is
that soon they'll break

I just gave this a first read, but I'm going to come back to it again. I thought I felt a couple bumps in it, but it might just be that I didn't have the cadence quite right.
I liked it a lot. The repetious -ing's gave a spiralling effect and then the repetitious lines added a unending circular feel like the rings. The frailty that grew was pretty cool and reminded me of a relative's old wedding band that grew so fine at the back it was barely there.
Very cool piece.

__________________

thanks i have these 2 rings on each index they were identical but they are getting badly beaten now and it just seemed like a complete metaphor for my life when i first got them i was so happy with myself and i looked at them just now and thought man my life are like these rings slowly getting worse.

Time to put those in your own version of a shrine and get something else. If you want to go with gold get it with a lesser karat. The higher the karat the more pure it is, but the less strength it has. A bit of metaphor there, too. Strength in diversity.
Cool story, but try not to take it to heart so much. You're more than just rings. I'd put the rings in a box or something along with the poem.

__________________