Ouch

The pain

It doesn't always come from fists

These days that's rare. Fist meeting face, face meeting ground.

Today, the words hurt. They cut like knifes, slicing into skin. Sawing sinews.

They tear us apart but it's not a thing you can see.

Not a bruise around an eye, not a crooked nose.

Bullying is the acid within our stomachs, slowly searing its way out.

It will leave a hole wherever it goes, never leaving us quite whole or the same. 

We hurt, but who can we tell.

"It happens to everyone" they say. "Get over it."

"No!" we shout. Finally empowered.

The victim inside us all must band with our fellow people.

Only together can we make a stand.

Only together can we heal.