Your WordsMore Like This
Go right ahead, sir.
Keep stabbing at me.
Insult me with your words,
Your harsh, spiteful words,
Because I don't care anymore;
I'm too numb from all the agony
To even feel pain anymore.
Your ruthless insults,
Each like an individual knife,
Each opening up another wound,
Each slitting open another vien,
Each causing another river of blood,
Each slowly crumbling me to pieces,
Because it's not as if, initially,
I was normally the most confident person.
Why do I believe your name-calling?
Why is part of my mind soaking this all in,
And convincing myself that these are facts?
Tell me, sir, am I really stupid?
Do I seriously look like a clown?
If I went and left this world forever,
Because of your heartlessness,
Would you truthfully be the one laughing?
Excuse me, sir,
But could you please clarify,
Enlighten me with your reasoning,
For gradually ripping me to shreds,
When you can spot the hurt in my eyes,
When you can recognize how I lower my head
To hide these tears,
Every one shed represen