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.