The Value Of Hurt

Hurt

I choose not to believe the words I was called,

Stupid, ugly, smelly, gay.

The hurt was not 'in love' or for 'my own good,'

I don't care if that's how it happened in your day.

You chipped away bit by bit at what little confidence I could muster,

I was hurt, lost,scared,

Alone and feeling bad.

Your tongue left scars deeper than a knuckle duster.

My scars were healed with love, acceptance and trust,

Forgiveness of those who 'knew no wrong'

 A belief in myself and where I belong.

I have a purpose, a meaning I am no longer 'Just.'

Jackie 2013