What Fourteen Year Old Me Didn’t Say

Isabella Santoro

Photography Editor

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

“Why didn’t you fight back?”

Are my hands not balled into fists

Do you not see the hard set of my mouth

Have you not been aware of the fire inside

That grips tight and wraps around his throat

No words escaping those haunted lips

His eyes sheer terror hidden with a failing smile

Where are you as I scream murder

Do you fail to see the knives in my frown

As I take his hands and slash them red

Words as the point that rips into his skin

Vengeance has been born in my eyes

A heart that takes no scorn by way of man

My smile as the sweetest form of revenge

At least in my own mind I was so vicious

A vivid imagination only runs so deep

Even when my frozen hands were stuck in place

And my voice icy with too much fear to speak

I fight back with a projection of rhymes on a page

My words pack a punch to his gut

You didn’t think I’d stay silent…..

“Did you?”


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