Loveless phrases are spilling out of me like a curse.
My only vice was despising cruel people in reverse.
Thoughts carry me like doves, they carry me in a hearse,
And if I cry for help, I will be murdered by a nurse.
Horrendous images project on my eyelids for days.
Wise people left me for dead but some still chose to stay.
The cracks are spreading like the horsemen of my dismay.
I am far beyond repair, do not warm up the clay.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 