your words are coarse, crude.
throat lined with sandpaper, shaping them so that when they escape,
they'll cause the scraped knee, the bruised heart.
your words create the pain.

your words are fluid, smooth.
thickly coated with unterior motives.
and me, trapped like a fly in poisonous honey.
your words accentuate the pain.

your words are sharp, caustic.
dripping satirical thoughts from a selfish mind.
the stinging in the fresh wounds, the stinging from the frest tears.
your words prolong the pain.

my words are soft, sensitive.
the suble rolling of hills, the whispers of leaves are the breeze blows through.
clay shaped by gentle hands into pristine pottery, daring the world to break it, break me.
i use my words to write down every single way that i am
not.
like.
you.