Small

Your words, mean, are meant to hurt. Sticky, they stay with me like a stain.

Unable to wash them away, they soak into the fabric of my being.

Corrupting, as would an acid. Causing scars with every word spoken.

How casually you spew them. Knowing inside, even as you speak, what harm they cause.

Yet you still spew them, throwing them at me and others.

Somehow in your mind you think of it as a defence, you don’t have to admit to being abusive that way.

You scream how others owe you an apology, how you’ve done nothing wrong. Over and over, like a mantra, til you yourself believe your lies.

Cast not you eyes into a mirror, for they will see your lies.