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The spoiled poor kid strikes again, self-sabotaging everything pure.
“The pit is filled with snakes, my dear, don’t you try to act mature.”
Slouching through the system without a clear purpose, not really searching –
Hanging by a threat on the moonlit streets, one leg down, helplessly lurching.
Seven hundred steps to safety. The battery died a few thousands ago, no buzzing.
He left all the debt to the children, all the riches to the second cousin.
No one left to care, no one left to drag his cold body out the ditch this time around.
Or is it a grave? Excuse my forgetfulness, the third time this happened I lost the count.
“Love,” he says, “these cities are filled with thieves and morons, be safe.”
When I almost killed myself chasing you, I realized there’s nothing left to save
In this burning building that you buried me under when leaving. I was sleeping.
Haven’t got a good night’s sleep since then, I always sense the gas seeping
Through the vents and floors, and everything you touched in my life passing by…
It’s been five years since we talked. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
I’ve had five years to rebuild everything, but let me tell you this, and I won’t repeat:
I am so glad you were not by my side.
Had to teach myself how to breathe. How to eat.
And I had to learn how to grow up so quickly,
And I realized it takes so little to love people
When all you wanted to teach was how to kill everyone who cared, and do it slickly. Swiftly.
Oh, father, you poor spoiled kid.
Greed is what made you live off-the-grid,
Pride is what pushed you to make the bid.
Don’t blame the cities or systems for what you did.
If you want to sell souls, let the next be yours for a quarter of quid.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 