The rough, and, scarring,
bodily scourges,
are no comparison,
to being forever burdened,
by the torment of,
a scabrous, jagged mind.
That's the living abstraction;
of being; a callus't one.
Knowing the thin,
and, fickle nature of life,
whilst, saying, "It's okay. I'll be fine."

Holding on, to a grip of things,
in the present,
juxtaposed,
with, sharp memories; incessant,
cuts...