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Taya Aug 2015
Words leave their mouths
they cut me to the bone
scars lit my body
but they don't know

Each verb hurts
each one more cruel
each one creates
another scar
and blood pools too

Eyes stinging like acid
my body flinches back
somehow
their words are more
hurtful than a smack
shattered hopes and broken dreams;
i've really had enough of these.

bring it on!
though, really, i'm just a fawn

so new and struggling to stand,
you should really give me a helping hand.

they help me lots, these words of hate.
they help me to create.

as i sit, i ponder what you said.
and it really gets into my head.

and now i sit here, pen in hand,
and am thankful, now i can stand.

although you didn't help (you hindered)
and though you left me feeling splintered,

i thank you, Dad, for those hurtful things you said.
i thank you, Dad, for the occasional smack on the head.

you've made me strong.
Yeah, thanks dad...

— The End —