Why can't you play nice?
What is it about me
that makes you throw
Sticks and stones and ugly words?
Don't look away for a way out.
What makes you think I have rhinoceros skin?
Thick and battle worn,
and able to withstand your cutting words?
Wouldn't you say that I am a good person?
That I care, perhaps too much and to a fault?
What prompts you to imagine in me,
someone who can withstand your acerbic tongue?
Let me tell you something.
My skin is fragile
And covered with ugly scars
Full of memory that sometimes
Puss over and writhe in pain.
And every time you throw a mean word my way,
The wound gets deeper.
Quit being so mean.
You don't know how?
Because a kind word
Is good for the soul.
Yours and mine.