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Sticks and Stones
When I was a child the taunt came easily off my lips,
As the words continued to be flung in my direction.
With my shield of this poem I thought I was protected;
Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
How little did I know that this protection was a sham.
The words became stinging darts deep into my psyche,
With the burning in my ears and the tears down my cheeks.
Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
I was hit by a stone a time or two, and yes a stick once or twice.
The pain was true, but the bruises healed very quickly;
But the words of their taunts still cause me pain to this day.
Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
The pain of the words seem like they become ingrained into my soul.
Their power is stronger than I ever imagined within my developing ego.
I built up a strong fortress for protection from these flaming arrows.
Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
But this fortress has become a prison entrapping me within its gates;
Fully consumed by those rotten words of derision I become crippled.
No longer functional in this life, I cower with my cell awaiting my death.
Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
But the light of truth shines in through a crack in the prison's wall.
I see the words for what they were, as healing begins after all this time.
Only through the power of the light can we escape, and then say in truth;
Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
29Feb08
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