My Own Sword

Mon, 09/08/2014 - 15:55 -- PShah

Don’t let people know who you are, who you really are, since

glass hearts shatter easily by those who have been equipped with stone swords from birth.

Don’t let people know what upsets you, since

those who have stone swords will defend themselves to the death and leave you picking up your shards.

The words echoed in your head.

Cracks formed.

You wonder if it’ll ever be fixed, if things will ever be the same.

Forgiveness, Forgiveness.

Kiss the stone sword that hurts you every day.

Don’t let it change you, you’re bigger than this, you shall endure for the life you have so carefully put together.

“There are those who take, and those who give”

This was your mantra, the carefully sewn quilt you had wrapped around yourself.

Yes, it’ll be okay, you thought.

The stone sword may hurt me, but it protects me as well. I shall endure.

The words you wrote became your comfort, your protection, your solace. You had no one to speak to. No one to tell.

So you wrote, your words protectively wrapping around your heart, your tears became permanent tattoos upon yourself. Life may be difficult, but I have my words, you thought.

They gave you strength. From your words, you fashioned your own sword. A sword that bent with you, formed alongside you.


It gave you your voice.



Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741