Verbal Abuse

I grew up an adjective,
Nothing more than a description.
A depiction of every flaw in me
not defined by myself
but by what others see.

These words grew in strength
as they stuck like a glue
and they weighed on my mind
even though they weren’t true.

They are the echoing voices
inside of my head,
a constant reminder
of everything said.

Every word to insult me,
every weakness I show,
were my bones when you broke them,
from the stones you would throw.

I was abused by some words,
that exceeded my age,
too naive to find meaning
I was trapped in your cage
where the bars were cold steel
just as cold as my heart,
all I’ve known
is the ways
words can tear us apart.

And I’m sick of waking up
to the same words still ringing
the dictionary of disaster
as the chorus is singing
and our tears become rivers
which will flow into streams
drowned by all the cruel words
which manifest in our dreams.

Today.
I am no longer defined
by narrow minded hatred
No longer bound
by chains made of thorns
I fought with my demons
took the bull by the horns

I’ll be the definition
that I wanted to be
fuelled by pain and ambition
the best version of me.

~ Andrew
Should name it Second Draft Sundays but that implies I’m going to be consistent and I know that is one word that does not define me in the slightest. Speaking of consistent, I seem to jump between positive and negative more than a geometric sequence with a negative number as the common ratio

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The Wounds You Never Saw

I came home,
with bruises I hid like lies
rather than say,
surprise,
here’s one they made earlier.

I smile,
because at least at home,
I’m a little less intimate with walls.
A little less familiar with brickwork
from an inch away.

And in the medicine cupboard,
there are no plasters
to stitch up my fractured confidence,
no pain killers to kill the pain
of facing society
and feigning bliss.

This is the wound
you never saw.

This is the tear soaked table
head in hands
unable to smile.

This is the concrete kissing
grazed arms and ego
Battered boy you watched fall.

This is the one missed call.

The dial tone beeping,
late nights sleeping alone
the echoing voices
the words that were thrown

the bullets that bullies,
could fire at will,
the gaps in affection
that hatred would fill

This is the wound
that never surfaced.

Because thick skin
and a grin
is enough to sell a lie.

Because even when you try
to scream
your voice is muffled
by sorrow’s stream

and choking tears
sung lullabies,
as pillows heard
the muffled cries.

This is the scar
that I’m still wearing
and to this day
the world is staring

~ Andrew
I felt inspired to write this to reflect on the bullying that I experienced because no matter how much stronger I become there is still a mark on my past that follows me day by day.

Verbal Abuse

I grew up an adjective,
Nothing more than description.
A depiction of every wrong in me
and everything bad
that I couldn’t see.

And these words were like glue,
they stuck to my mind
even though they weren’t true

They are the voices in my head,
a constant reminder
of everything said.

Every word to insult me,
every weakness I show,
are my bones when you break them,
are the stones that you throw.

I was abused by some words,
that exceeded my age,
too naive to find meaning
but it felt like a cage
where the bars were cold steel
just as cold as my heart,
all I’ve known
is the ways
words can tear us apart.

And I’m sick of waking up
to the same words ringing
the dictionary of disaster
as the chorus is singing
and our tears become rivers
which flow into streams
drowned by the words
which manifest in our dreams.

Today.
I am no longer defined
by narrow minded hatred
No longer bound
by a thorny chain
I destroyed their roots
so only I would remain

I am not limited
to the words
I heard in my youth.
I am the definition of bravery
and the seeker of truth.

~ Andrew