“ Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will hurt me much more. They make me afraid to be myself, and lift my eyes up off the floor.
Sticks and stones may make me cry, but words will leave me cold. Never again believing the nice things I am told.
Sticks and stones may leave me bruises, but words will leave me scars, as I lock myself in the bathroom with a blade pressed against my arm.
Sticks and stones may make me ache, but words will make me want to die, to stop my time on this Earth, and kiss the ground good-bye.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will leave me numb, and the one to think otherwise is the ones behind the gun. ”
Sticks and stones may make me cry, but words will leave me cold. Never again believing the nice things I am told.
Sticks and stones may leave me bruises, but words will leave me scars, as I lock myself in the bathroom with a blade pressed against my arm.
Sticks and stones may make me ache, but words will make me want to die, to stop my time on this Earth, and kiss the ground good-bye.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will leave me numb, and the one to think otherwise is the ones behind the gun. ”