Words

They blame me.
They engrave in my mind,
An image
They say is me
But not
Me.
Is it?
Outside, I roll my eyes but
inside,
I crumble.
Their voices drip with sarcasm.
Burning like tongues of fire.
Grazing.
Scorching.
They speak in weapons.
Words are the knives
they cut with.
They leave
scars
that hurt.
Why
do they do this to
me.