Sticks, Stones, and Glass Houses
I let insults fly and hit me like pebbles, tiny terrible wounds and welts bubbled on my skin
I never raised my arms up to protect my face, god forbid retaliate. I want to be kind.
We all stood in glass houses and yet I did not throw a single stone-
My glass was meticulously shattered, my insecurities shown
Shyly sinking into the broken pieces, tears burning behind my eyes
The kindness I held tightly onto splayed out and bleeding in front of me, my only disguise
Unable to protect my little glass house.
I should have fought back, let my tongue scream obscenities,
They deserve it after what they have done to me
I could sharpen their stones, carry and catapult them back
Throw my words one by one, until I watch-
the last glass house crack.