i hear the words as they are piled on top of me

i hear the words
mounded high on my bones
set aside in silence

they are silently repeated
just in case i cannot feel
their crushing weight

i hear the words echo
i sift them as i can
set aside what i am able
for the distortion
i know them to be

but because i habitually listen
habitually ponder
they climb back on
in their repetitive repetition
and as they were intended
they make their crushing blow and
just in case i had not been
on bended knee from my fall
they shove me down
with their intention

of course i carry these words
words which tell me who i am

they are not new words
strapped upon my back
i have carried their weight
for two decades now
believing them so long and
when i began to see through them
to see them for what
they were and are
they are repeated
lest i forget
who i have been told
i am to be

not new words
not mine
not me

i cannot carry them
bent knee or not
i cannot bear them
i cannot bare them
as you would have of me