Calluses.
Fleshy shields
born from repetition,
born from overuse.
Lips never callus
and a heart,
while it may grow harder,
is always a sponge
sopping pain and
beating stories of
regret.
The realizations of the past
are recounted with each
thump, and
every pump is a step closer
to scarlet tears.
A slow burn.
The pain of living.
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