Sticks and Stones

At the ripe age of ten,

I was told that my mom and dad

Would have to get a special coffin

For me when I die,

Because I was too short,

I told a teacher, and the teacher

Just brushed it off and said

It was innocent teasing.

He didn’t mean it.

At eleven I had my bra straps


And was told by my teacher

That the boy who did it

Was just playing,

And that I was overreacting.

Throughout my life

I have been told to not

To take what is said

In hate

To heart,

That sticks and stones

Are the only things that will

Break my bones,

That the words

Aren’t actually going to hurt me.

But that is hard to believe

When you’re nine,

And you are on the sideline

Crying, because your classmates

Are teasing you mercilessly.

The words, may not hurt you physically

But they leave you vulnerable,

To the point where when you’re

Seventeen, you are a pile of


So self conscious that you

Hate yourself, and you

Cannot believe that you are

Good enough

And you finally break down,

And cry

And no one can understand why

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