Words

here is a rather personal poem that I wrote. I was experimenting with rhyme and rhythm.

Words are nuclear bombs waiting to explode,
dormant volcanoes waiting to unload.
But you're right.
What's so wrong with forceful tones
when sticks and stones can break my bones.
So have at it; the target is here.
But once the punches and slaps are done
and bruises have faded and you've still won,
my thoughts go on.
Those are never done.
'Cus while you've left no marks on my face,
nothing for teachers or friends to trace,
my beats still race from the words of disgrace...
and I'm left scared.
Not on my covers, but in my heart.
And my thoughts live on.
So while you're gone,
they're never done.

Author's Note

I was trying to work on rhyme and rhythm so some feedback on those aspects would be great.