Beyond Repair

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