Wilting Flower

Sticks and stones, sticks and stones
A daughter cries into her soft pillow
in hopes that it won’t turn her heart soft
Words thrown at her with the accuracy
of a NFL quarterback
But on the outside its an incomplete pass
because she shows no emotions
no hurt
Exactly how she’s learned to
Her daddy use to sit her on his lap
coach her about things like that
how emotions are for the weak
and if you have them you best hide.
So that’s what she did.
hide them all inside next to her true self
bitch, whore, slut, ugly…
rang in her ears
but this soldier’s much too tough to show her many tears
that she cries into her soft, soft pillow.
As she cries she envies this soft companion and holds it tight.
Shots ring out from across the hall
bitch, whore, slut, ugly…
Her daddy, her mommy.
How can he tell her to be tough while she sits on his lap
but then hurl bullets that ZING past her unbrushed curls.
But, her mommy plays it right.
A shield of stoicism wrapped around her
blocking even the harshest yells.
bitch, whore, slut, ugly…
When men are taught to shoot
and women taught to hide
We create this internal battle we both keep inside.
All flowers are meant to bloom
despite knowing one day they will die.
Yet with each stick and stone thrown at her growing mind
this young flower hopes for the day she can bloom
before the beauty born within her
slowly, quietly
dies.

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