Photo by Laura Barry on Unsplash

Vulnerability to criticism

I wish I can mend it,
If I can erase the memory
Or bury it in darkness,
A stone when thrown
in water makes countless ripples,
and settled down somewhere deep.
Doubts that surrounds you,
Makes you feel you’re not worth loving,
Reminds you of all dark times,
Where sun was never your side
While shadows were lurking from a peep.
Words can be as sharp as swords,
to make the heart to bleed or it can be tenderly dangerous like a rope, to make you choke to death.
Once they are set to the target, there’s no going back
Not all minds are same, some are more vulnerable while some are not.
Minds are like wet clay in childhood,
They take shape facing different situations, judging them on same criteria is not wisdom.