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Words, words, words. Too many words.

I love words. I love the English language. I love it’s ability for ambiguity, for irony, for the opportunity to play around with meanings, it’s fluidity, it’s beauty, it’s rhythm and flow.

I love to write. It helps get whatever mess is in my head, out. It helps me to process my emotions.

I love to read, a good novel is hard to find. It is exciting to open up the first crisp page, often too short lived and always leaves me wanting more.


They can be used to uplift, inspire, comfort, reassure.

They can be used to belittle, hurt, scorn and spread hatred.

They can lie.

A good lie looks you right in the eye and doesn’t subconsciously scratch it’s nose. It says good things to you without giving anything away. A good liar must be well practiced. Lies, upon lies. Sometimes the only thing you have to go on is the slight twist of discomfort in your stomach. Something doesn’t quite fit.

No, it all fits, I’ve checked, right? I’ve asked, I’ve looked into your eyes and you said it again. It was the truth then, it must be now, right?

So why does my gut say different? I have no evidence. I have no proof. Just this damn knot and it won’t go away.

Words. Just words. Beautiful, mesmerising, captivating words.

Now, action? That shit can’t lie. It does what it says on the tin. Done, sorted, acted upon. Good action are good. Bad actions are bad. No amount of words can change that. No matter how hard someone tries.

Oh words, my favourite toy, they must be treated with caution. Like a cat curled up enjoying a tummy rub they can suddenly and unexpectedly turn and stick their claws and teeth deep into your trusting hand.

Wounding you forever.

Words. Like an assassin, can take the life from you. Harsh, cruel, hurtful words that cut to the core. Words that demean, they take from you, they hold energy and they can be like a bulldozer to your soul.

Terry Pratchett wrote in the book The Wee Free Men:

“They think written words are even more powerful,’ whispered the toad. ‘They think all writing is magic. Words worry them…”

Words hold power. Though I don’t agree with the toad… They don’t need to be written down for their power to manifest.

“Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

Yeah. Right.

Words kill. They spread hatred, rumours, intolerance and ignorance. Before there is any damage there are the words behind it. Words maim souls. Words kill before anyone dies.

Use your words with caution. None of us truly consider the power that is held within them.

And that knot in the stomach?

Listen to it. It is always, always right.


We are looking for your stories of abuse to feature. Many small voices make one LOUD voice.

Domestic abuse damages in whatever form and here at Many Small Voices we hope to gather the stories of those who have survived abuse into one resource to help and support those who are still victims. We also hope to support survivors through recovery once the abuse has stopped because the scars are still there and will remain forever. Support after abuse is just as important.

We are not experts, just people who are passionate that domestic abuse, in whatever form it takes, must be stopped.

If you think you or someone you know needs help please take a look in our links page to find a list of organisations that strive to help support victims of abuse.



A network committed to speaking out about domestic abuse and offering support. Many small voices can make one big voice.

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