Sticks and Stones

At the ripe age of ten,
I was told that my mom and dad
Would have to get a special coffin
For me when I die,
Because I was too short,
I told a teacher, and the teacher
Just brushed it off and said
It was innocent teasing.
He didn’t mean it.
At eleven I had my bra straps
Snapped,
And was told by my teacher
That the boy who did it
Was just playing,
And that I was overreacting.
Throughout my life
I have been told to not
To take what is said
In hate
To heart,
That sticks and stones
Are the only things that will
Break my bones,
That the words
Aren’t actually going to hurt me.
But that is hard to believe
When you’re nine,
And you are on the sideline
Crying, because your classmates
Are teasing you mercilessly.
The words, may not hurt you physically
But they leave you vulnerable,
To the point where when you’re
Seventeen, you are a pile of
 Nerves,
So self conscious that you
Hate yourself, and you
Cannot believe that you are
Good enough
And you finally break down,
And cry
And no one can understand why