The sun still rises, even when all has been written down.
We switch disguises,
We offer the mountains our crowns.
The ink betrays us, it paints us dismal and cruel.
Our crimes are heinous
But we try to keep our heads cool.
The burning sky raises hell over our weakened frames.
We are losing our high,
Lifting armors and cursing names.
There is no one to bother, not a soul will hear us out.
They took our mothers,
Exchanged fresh air for doubt.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 