The rainy boulevard gnashes its teeth,
Trying to bite off little pieces of my feet.
I sprint from side to side, fleeing its mouth,
And I attempt to take a different route,
But the cobblestone streets keep screaming,
Accusing me of being a demon.
I curse loud in a park with no one to hear.
They used to make piles out of bodies here.
My neighborhood grieves lost centuries,
Blood and flames turned into eulogies.
And then there is me and my excuses,
My pathetic escapism dressed as a muse.
The old churches look with cold judgement,
Turning away my pain and my torment.
Still, the unkept cemeteries tell me stories.
They tell me I can make it to my forties.
Every little corner speaks in my ear,
Offering protection when the death is near.
So, maybe I can find reasons to go on,
Face it like those before me and move on.
Maybe one more storm will brew before dawn.
Maybe I am just an unlucky pawn.
The rainy boulevard gnashes its teeth,
Trying to bite off little pieces of my feet.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 