In your sea of misery,
where do I float like a wreck?
Is it somewhere by the shore?
Do my ribs hang around your neck?
I’m not a thing you hide in corners.
I’m no longer twenty-six.
I asked for you to show me kindness;
you took an ax to fix it.
The smiles were all in your head,
the whispers were imagined.
I would have found some empathy
if this wasn’t so tragic.
Men like you have excuses,
men like you kill their muses.
Men like you do not lose,
but I can show you where the noose is.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 