Burn!
  You smile at me in friendship
Offer words of kindness, too
And once I've turned you kick me down
Then stab me through and through

Burn, bastard, burn!

Your right hand offers flowers
While the other holds a whip
You claim that I'm just paranoid
That I need to get a grip

Burn, bastard, burn!

Sticks and stones
May break my bones
But poisoned words
Will kill me

   

© Amber Drake 2024
 

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