deepundergroundpoetry.com
Mortally wounded
Mortally wounded by words
A sensitive soul may be my curse
To shrug it off
Or brush it aside
I feel a little piece of me die
Whoever said words don't hurt
Was a liar
Sticks and stones were used
To build my pyre
A sensitive soul may be my curse
To shrug it off
Or brush it aside
I feel a little piece of me die
Whoever said words don't hurt
Was a liar
Sticks and stones were used
To build my pyre
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