Wicked faces search for motives in my distracted head,
But I feed my thoughts to the vacuum cleaner.
The mystery will follow me until I am ice cold and dead,
And they will argue whether I was a people pleaser.
Chants rise over the horizon as I grow even more layers.
They despise these secrets I keep burying alive.
The money rolls in but I do not obey the eager payers.
As long as I provoke them, I will survive.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 