Hour 5: Winkle

No stick nor stone has

Ever broken any bone of mine

Bruises come and go


But a word can cut right through me

The pen is mightier than the sword

The tongue is sharp as steel

No deeper wound I’ve felt


Here I go again

Retreating into the shell

My own private hell


Perhaps a word could coax me out

It would help to have a friend here

But no one calls my name

Outside there is silence

The End

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