Does the mirror on the ceiling reflect my own claws?
Are my eyes once again playing cruel tricks on me?
I am building a pile in the corner from knives and saws,
Hoping somebody stops me and calls it misandry.
But there is no one around to choke out my roaring flame.
It illuminates photos and memories until they burn.
I was a lighthouse for people who deserved only pain,
And I learned my lessons, so I guess now it is their turn.
Does the early morning fog resemble a sinner’s path?
Is my rage once again becoming the hero of my story?
Those who fooled me always mocked my rightful wrath,
Now they faint and call my tactics uncouth and gory.
They cannot kill me now or slay the god that they gave me.
It must hurt to see how I have chewed through their ropes.
I wonder if they truly thought that they could tame me,
I wonder if my punishment will wipe out that hope.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 