Another kick planted,

Firmly in my gut.

~

Another blow,

Breaking

Blow

Breaking

Blow

Breaking

Blow....

That snaps something once whole inside.

~

Breaking.

~

You speak your words meant to cause

Breaking.

~

Meant to make all pause and consider the wisdom

Of me.

Because one somebody who is a nobody thought up a lie that was something

Of a sensation,

Shattering all the expectations

Of your deceit.

~

And it was meant to be my defeat.

~

It was meant to make me sit by and weep,

While all the things I've been invested in constructing

Through the criticism and demolition

Of my existence,

Unravel.

~

Like socks with runs through the tightly knit stitches and sweaters coming slowly undone as you pull them out,

Bit,

By bit,

And I can't find which end to pull back,

So I let you.

~

Your words are like kicks,

Causing broken bones as surely as those sticks and stones you find a way to throw,

As well.

With intentions born of a hell darker than the blackest night,

Where the shadows of your lost humanity alight.

~

But it's hard.

Life,

Is hard.

And even with the pain you thrust into others,

Attempting to break off pieces of souls already chapped and flaking,

Like sun burn skin that fingernails persist in picking,

So it breaks away and leaves red marks.

~

But your marks are so much deeper,

Than skin.

They twist and dig and bury themselves in,

Trying to form wedges where wedges were not and rifts into chasms, growing deeper and fat off your lies and breaking words.

~

Breaking words.

~

But I know,

Life is hard.

~

And the kid with the names,

Quick and biting,

Can still become someone,

Kind.

~

If only they can find

That inside them

Resides a child,

Both playful and sweet,

And as lost as those you tag with names and pull apart in the street.