While sticks and stones may break my bones, words will never hurt me.
Okay, I will take your sticks and stones and give you the crushed bones.
My words are all I've got, so I will write you this poem and bury the bones in the plot.
There's no skeletons in my closet, I used the sticks and stones to build a home and left the war awhile ago.
Words are like swords, they cut like knifes and deeper with each line, they leave invisible wounds so no one is aware of your suffering until you reveal the scars.
The bully lied every time, the teacher told you to get in line, your self esteem told you your not worth the time.
Now tell me how words will never hurt me, when I am crying while writing.
Memories of past regrets roll upon the surface of my life, in the most unexpected time.
Words are all I've got and memories of accusations from loves broken ideas and words of affection that turned into scars from a narcissists infection.
Love brought me words sharpened like knifes, it still hurts me and its been a long time.