When I was little words were never meant to be pretty. Words were meant to hurt. They were meant to cut the air and blister the hearts of whomever you wanted burned. Words were ugly, and malicious, meant to inflict cruelty onto any perceived enemies. Meant to draw tears and blood, unforgiving in their outrage. Meant to cut you down at the knees, and watch you suffer.
When I was little the world was a dark place. It left you for dead. And words were the weapons that kill you.
When I was little, words were without meaning, and kindness was empty.
But I’ve grown up recently, and I now see words for what they are. They are neither beautiful, nor ugly. They are simultaneously beautiful and ugly.
Words are what you make of them. They are but meaningless sounds and symbol- that we give power.
We manipulate them, to build and to destroy.
When I was little words weren’t meant to be pretty.
But I’ve grown up recently, and realized they can be.