Like pneumatic nails shot into wood,
your angry words hurl into me.

My soul tears, oozing life-sustaining juices,
turning the stomachs of passersby
attempting to skirt your disruptive scene.

I melt into the dirt like ice cream,
making your hands sticky and unable to
throw more stones without dirtying yourself.

You are puffed up, stronger, older, craving to
obliterate my defenseless child mind.
You fire more words into my open sores.

My head drops lower, down from your hating
eyes and torturing tongue.
I am crucified, disintegrating into the nothing
you would have me become.

You wish I had never been born.

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