mental health · poetry


Oh little child if only you had known,
The lies that were told before you had grown,
For once we chanted to our foes,
‘Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words will never hurt me.’
Oh how young and foolish were we,
As sticks and stones have pierced my skin,
But words have cut me from deep within,
No fist could fight nor words turn right,
The darkest parts of my soul bringing forth past pain even as I grow old.
Release is all I seek, release me is my plea,
So I am not condemned to eternity full of this misery.

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