You called me selfish.

It wasn’t just a comment,

a joke or a question.

It doesn’t take a genius

to know that you meant it.

I called you sweet.

It wasn’t a compliment,

a rebuttal or a burn.

It doesn’t take an Einstein

to see it was only me who hurt.

You called me an idiot.

It wasn’t a passing quip,

a mistake that you said.

It doesn’t take a B. Franklin,

to feel the spark that kills me dead.

I called you friendly.

It wasn’t just a remark,

a sarcastic response to a coward.

It doesn’t take a G. Washington

to hear my tone’s bitter and sour.

You called me selfish,

while I bit my tongue.

You yelled at me,

though I held my breath.

Call me what you want,

but I’m only so young.

You called me idiotic,

while I stuttered to agree.

You threatened my sanity,

though I didn’t speak.

Call me what you want,

but _you_ broke _me_.

If you only knew,

that everytime you called me

a stupid, selfish idiot,

everytime your jaw spit,

it was spitting on my grave.

Because while I’m no longer afraid,

you tore away my youth,

you ripped to shreds my ability

to be brave,

to be saved.

If you only knew-

You can call me what you want,

whatever it may be,

but if you only knew

that I’ve never been the same,

maybe you would have changed.

Maybe not, maybe you truly don’t like me.

When you insulted me,

I only bit my tongue.

Call me what you want,

but nobody’s forever young.