When I was a kid I used to think that pork chops and karate chops Were the same thing I thought they were both pork chops
And because my grandmother thought it was
cute
And because they were my favourite
She let me keep doing it
Not really a big deal
One day
Before I realized fat kids are not designed to
climb trees
I fell out of a tree
And bruised the right side of my body
I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it Because I was afraid I'd get in trouble For playing somewhere that I shouldn't have been
A few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise And I got sent to the principal's office From there I was sent to another small room
With a really nice lady
Who asked me all kinds of questions
About my life at home
I saw no reason to lie As far as I was concerned Life was pretty good I told her, "Whenever I'm sad
My grandmother gives me karate chops"
This led to a full scale investigation
And I was removed from the house for three
days Until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises
News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school And I earned my first nickname
Pork Chop
To this day
I hate pork chops
I'm not the only kid
Who grew up this way
Surrounded by people who used to say
That rhyme about sticks and stones
As if broken bones
Hurt more than the names we got called
And we got called them all
So we grew up believing no one
Would ever fall in love with us
That we'd be lonely forever
That we'd never meet someone
To make us feel like the sun Was something they built for us In their tool shed So broken heart strings bled the blues As we tried to empty ourselves
So we would feel nothing
Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
That an ingrown life
Is something surgeons can cut away
That there's no way for it to metastasize
It does
She was eight years old Our first day of grade three When she got called ugly We both got moved to the back of the class So we would stop get bombarded by spit balls But the school halls were a battleground Where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day We used to stay inside for recess Because outside was worse Outside we'd have to rehearse running away Or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there In grade five they taped a sign to her desk That read beware of dog
