All my beige dresses have specks of brain matter on them.
All my thoughts are scattered, waiting for the sword to drop.
Have I bludgeoned the last good man this chilly evening?
Will they watch as I self-destruct or make me come to a stop?
I am taking my path down some alleys I cannot even mention,
And the dogs are after my scent, but soon they will tire.
The river washes away the scarlet crimes while I act somber.
One day they will finally see that I am no gun for hire.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 