THE FIRST CUT

78 9 6

by JaneBennett9

by JaneBennett9

THE FIRST CUT

The first cut is the deepest, or so I’ve heard it said

But all it does, quite simply, is play games with my head

It’s words, not swords, that cut and tear and cause my eyes to swell

They send me to a place that’s dark; my own internal Hell

Sticks and stones may break my bones but your words persecute me

Such thoughtless jibes and rotten vibes make me a screaming banshee

You’d think I’d learn, to turn away from such damaging encounters

Protect, prevent and keep at bay such deathly black mood downers

I blame myself, too sensitive, should laugh off careless banter

Instead I dwell on what it meant, and cause such needless anger

My mind is full of images, of seething aimless rankling

I know it’s wrong, but honestly, you really deserve strangling

It does no good, this hate, this gall, it churns and burns inside me

It’s words, not swords, that’s damaged me, if only you could see

If the first cut is the deepest, why is it your tongue that lashes me?

A knife will smart, but vicious remarks slice through my fading heart

And I lie weeping, broken, hurt, ripped down the middle

Completely cut in two

Because foolishly I’ve permitted you to break my world apart.