Scars.

They caught a man harassing a woman on the street.
But little do they know, the verbal harassment he weighs on her, daily.

They found a girl, brutally raped lying in an abandoned house somewhere in a deserted city.
Little do they know his brutal insults mentally strip her naked, daily.

When she decides to fight back, the world judges her.
When she doesnt, the world judges her.

Screams heard from within the house, paint her as the culprit while he comes out, helpless and taken as the victim.
They look at him with pity, while their eyes follow her path, with thinly disguised malignity...
...But little do they know, her shouts of protest, are the result of his cruel words breaking her spirit, thwarting her mind, leaving her uncomfortable in her own skin.

Words, they say make a person.
Words, they say break them too.

What however, of the words that do neither the former nor the latter, but instead leave a being dangling, suffering..
...looking...
...grasping...
for little hopeless shreds of hope.

He breaks her, hurts her, cuts her up with words sharper than knives, leaving her body lifeless and sore.
And she...she gives in to this poison that she knows will make death inevitable but very very painfully slow.

While the world convicts a man for wounding a woman physically for everyone to know.

The firebreather that once stole her heart, damages her mentally with words...
...leaving scars that will never show.