(Please play the video on the side)
When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
And because my grandmother thought it was cute
And because they were my favorite
She let me keep doing it
Not really a big deal
One day
Before I realized fat kids were not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
And bruised the right side of my body
I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it
Because I didn't want to get in trouble
For playing somewhere I shouldn't have been
A few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
And I got sent to the principal's office
From there I was sent to another small room
With a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home
I saw no reason to lie
As far as I was concerned
It was pretty good
I told her "whenever I'm sad my grandmother gives me karate chops
This led to a full scale investigation
And I was removed from the house for three days
Until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises
News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
And I earned my first nickname
Pork Chop
To This day
I hate pork chops
I'm not the only kid who grew up this way
Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme
About sticks and stones
As if broken bones
Hurt more than the names we got called
And we got called them all
So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us
That we'd be lonely forever
That we'd never meet someone
To make us feel like the sun
Was something they built for us in their tool shed
So broken heart strings bled the blues
As we tried to empty ourselves
So we'd feel nothing
Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
That an ingrown life
Is something surgeon's can cut away
That there's no way for it to metastasize
It does
She was eight years old
Our first day of grade three
When she got called ugly
YOU ARE READING
Book of Quotes
PoetryA book filled with quotes to make you laugh, or question the world.