You peppered me with a spray of you’re not good enough
And showered me with the bullets of never-ending self-doubt
Until my torso and very being was riddled with them.
If words were wounds,
I’d be a fallen soldier on a dusty battlefield
Or a corpse discarded carelessly in a mass grave,
Merely a victim of your own self doubt
And inability to know how to behave.
But I’d be free.
And no matter what weapon I use,
I can’t dig those words back out.
I’ve tried flushing my body with toxins
I’ve tried scratching my way in
With nails, and knives, and sheer force,
But nothing works.
You’re still there,
Embedded like a festering splinter.
Every time I look in the mirror
I see your sneer.
Every moment I wish for silence,
Your taunts are the words that I hear.
Why do you get to guide my day
And taint my night
When our war has been over for years?