The applause gets louder each time I beg them to stop.
They cheer for my wins and scream from the mountaintop.
The blood on my hands drip down the knife I hold.
They would not believe that I do just what I am told.
Spit leaves their lips as they yell my name to the sun.
Those hatchets I buried turned into red water guns.
The crowds want a piece of my gold, a glimpse of god
But she is long dead and my morals are deeply flawed.
I still remember how loud they booed me back then,
Their teeth sunk into my neck when I picked up a pen.
They pretend like we reached this peak hand in hand
When they called me the maddest woman in this land.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 