They’re just names,

Simple words,

But they’re sharp,

Razor sharp.

You say them to me,

Behind my back,

In loud whispers,

And you laugh.

It hurts,

Those words,

They hurt.

I hold it in,

And walk away,

I know I shouldn’t,

But I can’t help myself.

I walk inside,

And lock the door,

I’m not alone in here,

But I don’t care anymore.

I cry,

Until the tears,

Don’t come anymore.

I unlock the door,

Splash my face,

And walk out with a smile.

All those feelings,

Hidden away,

To seep through another day.

By Samora Lewis.


2 thoughts on “Hurtful

  1. people suck. and they don’t get nicer as you get older. you just understand better that their inability to be nice has nothing to do with you…. it has everything to do with them. people pick on other people because of their own insecurities, and someday in the future that will become easier to see. until then, keep your head up. xoxo

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