Sticks and Stones
Something struck him at his core
Cost him something though poor could not afford
Tore through as to leave a wound
His bitter screams turned to acoustic tunes
You can see him...feelings at war with himself
and a little voice in his heart that cries out for help
but help not available, his own hand he helt
Dealing with the hand he’d been dealt. Can you know how
that must have felt
To be the victim of crime so heinous
They enjoy it, how shameless
Oh, but it comes so easy
Like bullets those words were loaded
And like a gun just make a fist and let those words
do the hitting for you
Because tonight it wasn’t sticks or stones
that broke my bones, but those
words that hurt me.
By Sage