;
sticks and stones will break my bones but your words,
they may kill me. they prick at my skin till i bleed, penetrate my bones with a certain greed, dissolve in my bloodstream.
your words haunt
my thoughts,
my mind,
my brain.
encircle me like a school of sharks stalking their prey.
the sound of my ever present heartbeat the only sign that i might be okay.
my walls, they're built up high;
a castle, palace, fortress reaching the sky.
but the sharks
they don't stop pounding ramming into it persistently, relentlessly.
and like all strong things,
buildings,
beings,
it's resolve weakened.
my resolve weakened.
and eventually cracks appeared and the castle, palace, fortress i'd spent an eternity building up
began
to
fall
began
to
crumble
began to
descend.
until only rubble, shards of will, my resolve remained.
now, sticks and stones may have broken my bones but your words,
they killed me.
YOU ARE READING
SEMICOLONS
Poetry; in which she dies a thousand deaths without flatlining. - all rights reserved.
