My Voice Was My Sword
Trigger warning: some disturbing content. A haibun poem about why I behaved the way I did in anger and how I used my voice as a sword
There once lived a young lady named Talia. I was tall like a medium-sized bookshelf, brunette as a coffee bean and my lips were red as strawberry-flavoured Jelly-Belly’s. My skin was light like peaches and cream, but was sometimes as tanned as sand dunes. I was puffy like a mammoth beach ball, but rough like a silver marble bench.
I was red as blood,
who became hot like flaming fire;
Poof! I exploded!
I used my voice as a sword. I was hurt by other people’s voices, so now I owned the same type of sword as the bullies used to make me bleed and burn inside. The words were as painful as migraines, twisted ankles and bee stings. I injured people with my inner sword. I made them bleed and burn inside, because I was bleeding and burning inside.
My voice was my sword;
It was sharp and pointy
like a butcher knife.
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About the Creator
Talia Devora
Poetess, visual artist and lifestyle/quiz writer! My pastimes include reading, sleeping, gaming, music, fitness, etc! Be yourselves, be kind and value life! Let's connect and be friends!
My IG accounts: @tdwrites24 & @tdcreates97
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Comments (2)
I think we need to go a bit mad before we can freely live without the concerns of others judgements. Keep your sword sharp and your heart receiving of all that is beautiful, still. Good stuff!
Beautiful yet sad!!! Sending virtual hugs!!!💕❤️❤️