”Sticks and stones may break your bones  
but words will never hurt you.”   
Was it said to me my youth   
When hot tears would daily fall.  

 

The sobs, the wails - silence child!  
Her cold impatience - Quiet!  
In their dry the buried pains   
hid deep in fear forgotten.

 
"Cry some more and you shall have   

something more to cry for!" 

This was love as taught to me.   

Silent seeds of my disease.

 

O’er long years in muffled rage   

dark grew a cancer rotten. 

In little things the symptoms   

were first seen. The snipes, the jabs,

 

minor slights of no import.

Yet ferociously I stab!

So easily offended.    

Tread ever lightly, cross this

 

my path with trepidation 

blind pain to be your wounding. 

Lost in empty righteousness 

monstrous defense rears malign.

 

No quarter to be given.  

No cut’s inflicted wound too deep. 

Heave long pain and hurl the hurts 

that long upon me feasted,

 

shredding my humanity.   

No piercing barb too sharp. 

My poison tongue a razor, 

no sharper blade existing.

 

My heart eclipsed in darkness.   

No blinder fool found living! 

My decency, bright goodness 

in darkness stifled silent.

 

The child’s natural innocence   

below the raging surface; 

Ever gasps and struggles on 

for a breath of golden sun.