They say sticks and stones may break my bones
But her words
They've cut me deeper than a belt or switch ever could
They've left their sting, their wounds, their mark
Not on flesh where any eye could see
But hidden, secretly
On my broken wounded heart
Strike by strike, their tone, their sound
I'm broken, beaten to the metaphorical ground
This 'strong-willed child'
'Stubborn' and 'determined'
Was a scared, lost little girl
In such a big, frightening world
Longing to be hugged and held
But the looming Tyrant only
Criticized and sometimes yelled
The once-bubbly child fell silent
Learned to bite her tongue
So the words don't come, that lead
To punishment and correction
The price she paid, the feeling
Of belonging and connection seemed
A worthwhile fee to find protection
Alone, isolated,
Wordless perfection