Sticks and Stones

"Sticks and stones, may break your bones, but words can never hurt you."

I for one, would love to say that statement- is a load of bullshit.

A wound heals.You can shrug it off, take breath, and walk away... but those words? Those awful names? They haunt us.

It's emotional damage, it's what you can't see. What you can't fix with just a little band-aid, that- that is what hurts the most.

I wish I could stand here confidently and tell you that everything is going to be alright, that this isn't how things have to be, but it's not always that easy.

I ca't stand here lying to you, I can't stand here lying to myself, and I most definitly not continue siting here quietly. My fists balled to resist my frustration.

And though I know I'm at a cross road where I must chose left or right, but if I am to be dammed ether way then I just don't care.

I have to shed the truth, I must expand my horizon. I have to admit the truth, because I would rather be hanged by my own measure rather than sit back, feeling guilty as I bite my tounge.

For what you may ask? For Justice.

Not the satisfaction that so cruelly has poisoned our way of thought, but for knowing that I tried.

I only have so long.

My voice may not be much, but ours? That damn well can be.


This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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