Sticks and Stones

A girl sat
Listening to sticks and stones
Thinking it was ok

But the pain continued
The realisation hitting her
But broken bones still hurts more
Or she was led to believe that

But now, she just runs her fingers along
Bananas, apples, everything
But not because she wasn't hungry
She was starving
Her stomach roared like a lion with every movement

But she never picked anything up
For the fear of getting "too fat"
For the fact those names have
Destroyed the mirror she looked into

She didn't see herself
She saw what everyone else convined her was there
But the pain was never ceased
No matter how much she screamed, she was always on mute

So she stopped..
No matter how many tears wanted to run down her face
No matter how badly she wanted to scream
She sat there and stayed silent
Taking the bullets of names and insults
As if they were simply gusts of wind

But those gusts of winds hurled blades
And the blood ran down her legs
Creating artworks on her skin without hesitation
She couldn't draw a simple shape in the day
But she created drawings that flowers rained out of when she was alone.

So she ceased wearing shorts
And she sat in jeans
Never letting anyone see the hell that erupted under her clothing
Bandaging her heart in cotton and sealing it away in a tomb
Where she couldn't feel it

And now she sits
Hearing the old rhyme
"Sticks and stones"
With her eyes dull and skin pale
With a wave of nothingness hitting her
A wave she made
A wave that is keeping her alive

Don't you dare say all this hurts less than sticks and stones.