Remember that story,
About Sticks and Stones?
The one We used to chant,
When someone made Us mad?

We grew up on that rhyme,
About Stick and Stones.
How Words,
Would never break our Bones.

They can’t.
They won’t.
They don’t.
They do something far more Sinister.

They break Spirits.
They break Hearts.
They break Souls.
They don’t have to break Bones.

We tell Ourselves we’re fine.
The Words don’t really hurt.
But that’s just a pretty Lie,
Wrapped up in a nice bow.

We have to tell Ourselves,
There’s more to this.
There has to be more.
There has to be a Reason.

Because,
If not.
If there is no more,
What’s the Point?

But We know there is more.
We know how to tame the Fire.
We’ve been doing it for years,
After All.

So, We walk to that Battlefield.
Armed with only our Hopes,
Dreams,
Convictions.

Because there is more.
And We are never Alone.
We are Family.
And We are We.