Their conversations gurgle like iron cauldrons,
Words shoot from love languages to crystals.
They treat my smirking lips like a mad warden,
They know that my tongue fires like a pistol.
But I let the sentences float on the surface
As long as they do not cut open the skin.
The calm in their voices still makes me nervous,
And I try my best not to let the stress win.
I nod and I listen while the speeches roar loudly,
I do not even dare to lower my spacey gaze.
If I question the words, will they all doubt me?
Will they push me away or be amazed?
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 