Margaret Atwood - The Hurt Child lyrics

The hurt child will bite you
The hurt child will turn
Into a fearsome creature
And bite you where you stand

The hurt child will grow a skin
Over the wound you have given it
- or not given, because the wound
Is not a gift, a gift is accepted
Freely, and the child had no choice

It will grow a skin over the wound
The hoarded wound, the heirloom wound
You have pried out of yourself like a bullet
And implanted in it's flesh -
A skin a hide a pelt a scalded rind
And sharp fish teeth like a warped baby's -
And it will bite you

And you will cry foul as is your habit
And there will be a fight
Because you'll take the fight out of the box
Labelled Fights you keep so carefully stored
Against emergencies, and this is one

And the hurt child will loose the fight
And it will go lurching off
Into the suburbs, and it will cause
Panic in drugstores and havoc
Among the barbecues
And they will say Help help a monster
And it will get in the news

And it will be hunted
With dogs, and it will leave a trail
Of hair, fur, scales, and baby teeth
And tears from where it has been ripped
By broken glass and such

And it will hide in culverts
In toolsheds, under shrubs
Licking it's wound, it's rage
The rage you gave it
And it will drag it'self to the well

The lake the stream the reservoir
Because it is thirsty
Because it is monstrous
With it's raging thirst
Which looks like spines all over it

And the dogs and the hunters will find it
And it will stand at bay
And howl about injustices
And it will be torn open
And they will eat it's heart

And everyone will cheer
Thank god that's over!

And it's blood will seep into the water
And you will drink it every day