You said I was a lone island with a tall lighthouse in the center, overseeing the seven seas.
You said I was a ruthless king, making laws as I was breaking them, never hearing anyone’s pleas.
I aimed for the throat before I met you, I slashed necks without looking in the victim’s eyes,
But you knew I could not point my blade at you, I could not tie you down with a hundred ties.
You told everyone my stories, and the reflection got distorted enough for me to lose myself.
You spun the mirrors until the image swallowed me, it turned me into a figurine on a shelf.
You said I was a frightening sea creature, luring sailors in my nets, cutting open their dreams.
And no matter how loud I said that you were a liar, your voice still drowned out my screams.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 