sticks and stones will break your bones but words will never hurt you
it was a ploy a ruse that teachers used in hopes of building thick skin
and it was a lie
because sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will cut the deepest
sharp tounges slash wounds that may never heal
so look at me my wounds are deep
echoing the cruel voices of my past
she man
fatty
dyke
they come back to me now in my dreams and from the face looking back from the mirror
your hips are too big, your breasts too small, and your jaw slightly too square
theses are things ive been told and repeat to myself every time i think i look nice
these sticks ou throw and stones you shoot may buise and break and batter me
but its your words,
its your words that burn and fester
like a disease for which there is no cure
but i guess you dont know that they hurt
to the boy who called my temmate fat, just so you could make your friends laugh
dont you know its words like that
which make it impossible to love beautiful skin
so i will peel mine off so i dont have to look at it
and all that you will see is the soul within
and maybe right now it is torn to shreds by acidic words burning holes through it
but i will stich them up with the erraticly twitching needle of my emotional compass
creating zig-zag scars on my heart
but the flesh heals thicker where the wounds once were
so in a way they achived their goal
now my skin is thick but my confidince, oh my confidince
it is so paper thin
so thin that the reath of a caustic word, the softest of malintended penstrokes
will press holes in the page
so throw your sticks and your stones but weigh your words more carefully
there are far too many words on this page