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e-Writer in Residence

Mya Kidson | April 7, 2017

In honour of National Poetry Month, hear Mya read her poem aloud:

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Words flew out of my mouth like frisbees,
And people dodged them,
Looking back at me with an evil glare like I had done something wrong.
Words ran out of my mouth like a waterfall,
And created a pool of jumbled sentences in my presence.
People looked at me confused like I had said something out of the norm.
Words slithered out of my mouth and made their way down my skin.
Every time I spoke, a word filled up a space on my body making a collage of my sentences.
Words piled up on my hands,
On my arms,
And eventually made their way down to my toes and along my whole body.
The words I said made up the structure of my body,
Practically defining me in every possible way.
The words I had said had not just targeted others when they carelessly shot out of my mouth,
But they were now, imprinted into my skin,
Reminding me of how words hurt.
Words aren’t meant to define you, but in a way they do.
They affect how you think about yourself,
And now the words were coming back to haunt me.
Words don’t just affect others,
They affect the person who recites them.
It defines them as careless, ruthless, and above all conceited.
Pick your words wisely, or they might start to wriggle down your arms and adopt a place in your personality.