Teach me it’s okay to bully (Spoken Word)

Sorry if I’m a little rusty but haven’t written poetry/spoken word for a little bit. Hope you think it’s okay πŸ™‚

Sticks and stones
may break
my bones.

See, the phrase
made sense,
but the meaning
was confetti.

I guess they told
us
that words meant
nothing.

But then I felt like
nothing
when I let the words
hurt.

You told me to grow
thicker skin,
but in-between childhood
and adulthood
the words pained.

And today, the pain
is still there,
as if you
care.

Tell me again,
to be strong,
tell me
crying over them
is wrong.

Tell me I’m
weak and
I’ll break my
back easy.

Tell me it’s just
normal
and they’ll
mature.

Tell me that hurting
myself
was pathetic and weak,
and that I
am
nothing.

You were there
to teach,
not preach.

I guess that the
problem was mine,
and I had to say
I was fine.

‘Bullies don’t hurt’

I guess it was just
my mind
driving me
insane.

Maybe all that hurting
was
in vain.

Call me attention
seeking,
call me
weak.

Break me down,
because you were
the
problem.

They were bullies,
but in your eyes,
they were
kids.

Kids who could
have
killed
with words.

Am I sentenced
to a lifetime
of pain?

Do they walk free
from the pain
they caused?

I guess you couldn’t
see my mind,
you couldn’t
find some sympathy.

Because you were
my
mind.

You were the voice,
telling me I was
weak,
and I was a freak.

After all they
were
right.

And you’d think
I’ve forgotten
what they
said.

But the pain was
stitched inside,
now a scar that
won’t heal.

All I can
feel
is the loose cut
pulling me in.

Drowning me in
the words
that hurt.

Maybe one day,
I’ll forgive you,
but I still hate
my mind.

~Rachel ❀

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