Something struck him at his core

Cost him something though poor could not afford

Tore through as to leave a wound

His bitter screams turned to acoustic tunes

You can see him...feelings at war with himself

and a little voice in his heart that cries out for help

but help not available, his own hand he helt

Dealing with the hand he’d been dealt. Can you know how

that must have felt

To be the victim of crime so heinous

They enjoy it, how shameless

Oh, but it comes so easy

Like bullets those words were loaded

And like a gun just make a fist and let those words

do the hitting for you

Because tonight it wasn’t sticks or stones

that broke my bones, but those

words that hurt me.

       By             Sage