Severed Silence

Glass

Words are like a rock thrown at glass

He backs up and takes a deep breath. The rock goes flying out of his hand and through your humble protection. The glass embeds itself into your skin causing gaping wounds and ugly scars

Words cannot be unsaid

Glass cannot be unbroken

Nothing will ever be the same again.

Your memories turn themselves against you.
If you never knew what those nasty razor sharp words meant.
What would happen if you were as inocent as you are kind?
There is a girl out there just like that
The girl who, when people call her a hoe they are just saying she's a tool that people use to turn over new soil. She may have found them weird
but it wouldn't have broken her glass. She would never have known that they were calling her
a different kind of tool.
The one who threw herself into the arms of a man not to be loved,
but to be misused
and to be cheated of a virtue that is her choice and her choice alone, wether she should keep it in a box or hand it to someone so vile and deceitful, someone who only intends to misuse the gift that God gave to her or give it away to someone who already owns her heart.
And when they call her a bitch she would be able to laugh because she knows shes not a dog, she can see it when she looks in the mirror.

To her hate is just a word and a word is just letters put together

But little does she know that the people who yell words at her, the words that she need not understand, are not calling her a dog, they are calling her a snake. Someone with venom in their heart,
someone with a razor sharp bite.
They are calling her something shes not and her pure brain is too crystal, too protected by her idealistic image of what the world should be, and indeed it should be but thats not the reality.
Thats not how the world really is.
Shes blinded by her inocence.
Her parents, and friends and her positive thoughts have made her see the world much differently than others. She believes there is good in everyone, she doesn't discriminate, she doesnt judge.
She is living in a perfect world and nobody has the heart to shatter her glass and make her feel the first stings of betrayal and anger and fear for the future, because in her world she knows everything will be alright.

She is blinded by her innocence, blanketed in a fog that it is impossible to see through unless someone was to turn up the thermostat.

People debate which would be the greater kindness, to leave her in her perfect little bubble, never being hurt but never being heard.
Or, would she want to know things, understand the foul and thoughtless things they have said to her.
To be sucked into the wickedness of the world or stay innocent and stay safe.

She has a beautiful soul and an adventurous spirit.
She acts happy in her little bubble, and the outsiders are afraid of her grand meeting with reality, and so she continues sitting there rotting her huge brain in her tiny little bubble
in which, although nobody knows, there are chains upon her wrists.

Shes clostorphobic and afraid.
So she sits there and waits for a kindred spirit, an understanding soul, a knight in shining armor to come along and pop her bubble.
To kiss the princess, to give her the antidote to her long and lingering lonlyness.

To wake her up, pick the glass out of her skin and to tell her that everything will be alright.