Words

• Josie Marshall, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2022

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
They lied.
Words have surrounded me like walls, towering over me encasing me in their strength.
How could you? Why can’t you? Try harder that’s not enough! You can’t do it. I wish you were better.
I take these words and push them into a bag and zip it up and padlock it closed only until I need to push more in there.
Cautiously opening it to stuff the latest knew words into it, hoping that it will still fit.
I need a bigger bag.
This one is becoming too heavy to carry and I’m afraid that it will split, lashing out arguments and excuses.
Words are the instruments of destruction causing suffering unimaginable to those who have only ever experienced physical pain.
They tear you apart from the inside out forcing to stuff them away forever, out of sight out of mind.
Also, they lied. When the bag you carry weighs you down till all you can do is drag your body across the ground, gravel and cement tearing up your face.
But what else can I do?
All I’ve ever been told is that words can never hurt me.
They lied.