Stalagmites

I refuse to cease writing these words though all my bones have been broken splintered and shattered like puzzle pieces scattered on a tabletop their pointy ends piercing every muscle each time I move even an iota I persist as I always do despite the pain perhaps because of it to prove a point taping popsicle sticks to my fingers so they stay straight as I type “Obstinate, stubborn” my mother used to say when I dared to disagree or stand up for myself Her insults like a high pitched whistle blown inches from my ear echoing in my malleable young mind a cavern creating stalagmites layer upon layer with the constant drip-drip of disdain sharp and spiky that would impale me over the years yet to come