the daggers spoken and aimed with eyes
such cruel intent, such wicked lies
never more will i fail to be
what those words have done to me
if only they knew the scars they left
stealing sanity is such wicked theft
while on the ground i lie beaten and hot
defeat shrouds my every thought
when will it end, this perilous night?
i grow weary of the daily fight
for in the morning when i wake
i have 24 hours in which to fake
a smile and tolerance of formality
to questions which seek no actuality
'sticks and stones may break my bones'
can only be said in sarcastic tones
while purple moons lie under my eyes
from cruel intent and wicked lies