The pigment in my irises left the day I cut off my roots.
It must have been the freedom poisoning the wind,
It made me put on the boots.
When I started walking, their cheers turned into boos.
It must have been the pride swallowing me whole
That turned me into a fool.
And I never beat the lonely current, never met a real man.
Whenever someone acted overly nice,
I refused a helping hand.
The cold shards of glass in my heart turned back into sand.
When a good god offered his only soul to me,
I burned down his plans.
My fragile moral high ground collapsed under the city.
All I knew was falling for another naïve cause,
And I did not look pretty.
They tried to tell me, tried to convince me with their pity,
But I was not a schoolgirl looking for a sign,
I bit back whoever bit me.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 