Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me

We've heard it, said it, learned it.

But tell me do people choose to take their life because this rhyme is right?

Are the lives of children free from silver linings because words don’t comprise a fight?

Does the size, shape, color of my body constantly get scrutinized to avoid the blows of sticks and stones?

Because I feel I'm not alone

When I say I'd rather condone a beating

Because the bruises on my skin fade back into the complexion that most bullies know as pasty white

And after my head finally quits pounding, I know I’ll be alright

So why do we say that words will never hurt?

Why do we ignore the pain that is so much worse?

You're too fat, too loud, too fake too proud too dumb

We can't be friends: you didn't pay me in gum

Tell me where that makes sense

We have trained ourselves to use sticks and stones to break our bones so words will never hurt us

And if they do, we assume they’re true and nothing ever improves

I'm not the only kid who grew up this way.

Hiding from mistakes and running through months filled with moments during which words tell me I'm not enough.

There was a point where the world had my laces tied together, my bounds turned to skids and I was back to the bruises I was so used to

It was this time I decided that if they were right I wouldn't be here

They had to be wrong

And I decided to buy Velcro

Maybe the words still cause my heart to ache

But as long as I can bend and not break, I’ll be okay

Society has me in a size double zero box with no holes for my soul to breathe

I used buy things I couldn’t afford to make myself good enough for people I don't really care for

But now my skin is back to normal and my wounds are being healed

Stitched back together by people who are real

Who feel I'm enough

Even though my past was a little rough and the holes in the road often impeded the load

Which I thought I could carry.

I'm not the only kid growing up this way

Tucking in shoulders to avoid being smashed in the halls

Getting by with rarely doing my homework that's if I do it at all

But I know now that rhyme is wrong

The one about sticks and stones

And broken bones

Because words can truly hurt that girl I want to be

But I am still standing

Fighting for my right to be me.