Your words cut me like a knife
No. Not quite
Less like a knife
You are not precise
You hurl your words at me
Fast but no control
What is your aim?
To hurt
To motivate
Both
Do you even know?
Your words slice me like a saw
A blade oxidised into rust
Blunt
Your wound isn’t clean
It doesn’t leave a straight red line
Or a quick way to heal
Like a zip
Or a trail of blood
To show someone else my way
Your words tear my skin
An impossible jigsaw
An empty space
Your words leave a scar
Pink
Like my favourite colour of lipstick
But it is angry
It burns
It rips open
Again
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC
Your words cut me like a knife
No. Not quite
Less like a knife
You are not precise
You hurl your words at me
Fast but no control
What is your aim?
To hurt
To motivate
Both
Do you even know?
Your words slice me like a saw
A blade oxidised into rust
Blunt
Your wound isn’t clean
It doesn’t leave a straight red line
Or a quick way to heal
Like a zip
Or a trail of blood
To show someone else my way
Your words tear my skin
An impossible jigsaw
An empty space
Your words leave a scar
Pink
Like my favourite colour of lipstick
But it is angry
It burns
It rips open
Again
Any advice is welcome