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The Sculptor’s Words

By Keerthana K


I know words supposedly break you—

I’ve had to hear it over and over from people,

But I never felt it until you.


Until your words.

They came tumbling onto me,

Like falling from a ladder pulled while I was at its very top.


Your words did not just break me;

They tore me apart to the very centre of my being.

They ripped my chest open and threw my heart out,

Until I was hollow and covered in blisters from head to toe.


Until I was nothing but a being with a brain but no thoughts.

Until I was a being with vocal cords, but mute.


Your words were tools that carved out a statue of me,

One you destroyed because you were dissatisfied.

Sculptor that you are—

I wonder how your words have such sharp, unfinished, ugly ends.


By Keerthana K

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