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