Certain words turn us around
or stop us dead within our tracks,
we pick ourselves up of the ground
while trying to comprehend the facts.
We’re products of our own emotions
triggered by our past ordeals
at any moment self-imploding
by the scars that never heal.
The words you shared have struck a nerve
then scattered like a ricochet,
I hold my temper in reserve
my dissonance on full display.
Only so much one can stand
there's hell to pay on reprimand.
© Ginny Brannan 2018