Sticks and stones,
May break my bones,
But words,
Will never hurt me,
At first.
Your words,
Are like a feather,
You throw it at me,
And I'm fine,
I don't mind,
I'm not even bothered.
But after a while,
They pile up,
On my heart,
And that innocent little feather,
Gets turned into a dart.
You sharpen the tip,
And dip it in lead,
Aim at my heart,
It makes its mark,
I'm dead.
Because sticks and stones,
May break my bones,
But words,
Will never hurt me.
At first...
YOU ARE READING
Waving Through A Window
Poetry**While these poems reference suicide and self harm, they are in no way meant to promote it!! Read at your risk** When I look outside my window I don't get no peace of mind... Sequel: "Fading From Your Mind"
