They told me the pen was mightier than the sword,
And so I studied words upon words until my vocabulary was far beyond that
Of anyone else in my grade, even beyond many of my teachers.
They said to stop the bullies with my words,
And I taught myself to speak basic phrases of politeness and asking for help
In every language I could pick up, I can even speak it with my hands if their ears can’t hear me.
But it never stopped the cruel words hurling down on me like cold hard stones
Or the cruel hands striking against my skin and bones
Or the actions that ripped through me like claws and teeth and shattered me
Into tiny reflecting portions of myself, struggling to pull together.
The broken body,
The broken mind,
The broken soul,
That only wanted to be left in peace, not pieces. There is a difference between those two words,
I knew it early on.
Maybe the only peace is the one that they write on the stone that lies over the bones of those who can no longer fight
copyright M.R.C-Chaos Creations-2008
This experimental work has been running around in its author’s head for years before finally taking shape on paper. You may leave comments for M.R.C. here if you wish and I will pass them on.