Thursday, June 22, 2006
"sticks and stones might break my bones;
but words will never hurt me."
the above phrase unfortunately
it applies not to me.
for every unkind word said by someone dear
whether in all seriousness or in jest
whether empty or pregnant with meaning
it serves the same purpose -
to slice through my heart and make me bleed.
someone told me tt my family was sad
tt from the outside we seem like one whole unit
yet from the inside we are disjuncted
and while there is love on either side
there is no transmission.
there seems to be no happiness.
and although i have knowledge of tt love,
what makes me said is what tt love is doing to me.
it chokes, it burdens, it weighs me down.
it doesn't free, it doesn't fly;
it catches me in a prison of tendrils.
imprisoned to unhappy words.
nightly i return to arguments and hurtful comments
tt i bite my lip to endure
such tt daily i may return to your arms
and the happiness and lightness of being tt is conspicuously absent at home.
they wonder why i love you
they do not see tt you make me happy
with you i am free, careless, and i believe
you ask me what there is to fear?
they are merely human and they hurt just as i hurt.
but truth be told i fear not so much the words, the hurtful words
tt my supposedly catholic brethren utter to cut into me
but rather what those words are making me become.
the unhappiness tt translates to bitter resentment, to sarcasm to this need to fight back
for someone who abhors conflict how can i thus not help
but to abhor what i become in such surroundings?
i don't want to fuck myself up
i was fucked up enough for far too long.
but what might i do about those hurtful hurtful words?
except to endure just a little bit longer?
now playing: hotel costes - cafe de flor
but words will never hurt me."
the above phrase unfortunately
it applies not to me.
for every unkind word said by someone dear
whether in all seriousness or in jest
whether empty or pregnant with meaning
it serves the same purpose -
to slice through my heart and make me bleed.
someone told me tt my family was sad
tt from the outside we seem like one whole unit
yet from the inside we are disjuncted
and while there is love on either side
there is no transmission.
there seems to be no happiness.
and although i have knowledge of tt love,
what makes me said is what tt love is doing to me.
it chokes, it burdens, it weighs me down.
it doesn't free, it doesn't fly;
it catches me in a prison of tendrils.
imprisoned to unhappy words.
nightly i return to arguments and hurtful comments
tt i bite my lip to endure
such tt daily i may return to your arms
and the happiness and lightness of being tt is conspicuously absent at home.
they wonder why i love you
they do not see tt you make me happy
with you i am free, careless, and i believe
you ask me what there is to fear?
they are merely human and they hurt just as i hurt.
but truth be told i fear not so much the words, the hurtful words
tt my supposedly catholic brethren utter to cut into me
but rather what those words are making me become.
the unhappiness tt translates to bitter resentment, to sarcasm to this need to fight back
for someone who abhors conflict how can i thus not help
but to abhor what i become in such surroundings?
i don't want to fuck myself up
i was fucked up enough for far too long.
but what might i do about those hurtful hurtful words?
except to endure just a little bit longer?
# posted by Kitana @ 6/22/2006 01:20:00 AM 
