Sticks and Stones
My heart is as cold as the ocean is black,
And the depths of my soul release a chilly draft.
I can't handle the pain
And so they say, "Cut up the river not across the bridge..."
Pain killers call my name, but the label on their bottles
Never suggests a high enough dosage to take it all away.
The suffering caused by just wanting to "live"
And just hoping to find, my own piece in this world.
But no one ever told me that life isn't a puzzle-
It's a whirlpool of dismay that never closes.
I reach out and cry for help but I am only met with,
"Where one door closes, another one opens."
People act is if words ever help, or "sorry" even counts.
Words are what hurt you, hey dig deep
Where "sticks and stones" just don't reach.
"He was just a boy" they said.
"He never mattered" they said.
The scars prove otherwise,
Especially the ones they can't see and no matter how hard
I try to forget-
He'll always be more than "Just a boy" to me.
Share This Poem