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