Every day they hold my hand,
And every night I sit alone with my past,
Giving into its demands,
Hoping the horror show will not last.
Every morning they call me “darling”,
And every dawn my demons berate me.
The guilt, oh, it always comes gnawing,
Puncturing my bubble of safety.
Every week feels like an exorcism,
And despite their well-wishes, it hurts.
My mind is an abandoned prison –
No love, no greenery, and no birds.
Every month it gets just a little better.
Still, I doubt if I can outlive this burner.
I put on every new day like a sweater,
Hoping that it grows into armor.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 