You've stabbed me with verbal blades, not a knife
You've hit me with an abusive name, instead of your hand
You've kicked me with your insults, not your foot
All these attacks leave no scars. No marks. No bruises.
Daily torrents of verbal abuse, washing over me, leaving no visible trace.
But my mind. My thoughts. My heart
Are back and blue
Are battered and bruised
Are scarred and damaged
You see, there are scars. And marks. And bruises
They're just on the inside of me
And they're the hardest to heal
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