I am black and blue; bruised from the words that have bounced off of your back and slammed into me. My swollen eyes couldn’t make your face out of a crowd, but the way your hips sway, I could see you leaving for miles. My ears burn from the muffled hypocrisy that you spew, something about “actions” but your head is so far up your own ass, that I strain to hear.
Actions, sometimes they ripple through generations causing mass destruction and some of us are too weak to be accountable for those actions. Instead, we turn our backs when confronted with the words and whys, and we walk away when the hurt ones ask for answers. We play games, defense, and shout, how actions speak louder than words, and then we feel righteous and right, justified because words mean nothing unless they are our own.
© Nicole Lyons