You swept me off my feet like flood tends to do with towns,
Then you kept me under the water, hoping I would drown.
Baby, I am not your demon to burn or tear into pieces.
You can tell god whatever you please, save your reasons.
You think I do not notice the purple wounds that you leave,
You think I do not hear how you curse when I sleep.
Still, I have heard every syllable, felt every single punch,
But you are convinced you have long killed my raging hunch.
Do not doubt for even one second – I will shoot to kill.
I will scrape you off my brain, slay you with white pills,
And your pouring rain will form rainbows under my sun.
Yes, you swept me off my feet, but you never held the gun.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 