They don’t drag people down like they used in my day.
They don’t count the blessings until all debts are paid.
These characters they play make me sick to the bone.
They claim they know hell, but I once called it home.
And don’t even get me started on their unused armor –
They can’t carry the weight, they can’t push any harder.
When the flames licked my skin, I used to charm demons.
They kneel to their pain, bow in front of their feelings.
They don’t dissect hope like it’s simply a plot hole,
And I twitch as their Tuesdays are making them whole.
My doubt whispers under its breath like some thief:
“They’re everything who you once wanted to be.”
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 