Tag: "Not Your Madonna" series

I don’t speak in threats, but I will give you words of warning –

Be careful who you break, you might get cut on the shards.

There are people in this city who found my youth charming,

Then tried to burn my backbone until it was charred.

I don’t break like a tree branch, I don’t bend with the winds.

My heart is made of glass, and every piece of me stings.

These people crushed my youth like it was a fatal sin,

And they claimed it was a lesson in clipping rosy wings.

But I don’t have any tolerance for cruelty and violence.

When they broke my last bone, they agreed to get cursed.

As you walk these busy streets, enjoying your silence,

Know that somewhere in the suburbs I am building you a hearse.

-Jackie

We celebrate the stars and their mystical ways,

Then twist the blade as soon as someone disobeys.

The glimmer in my eyes looks a lot like Saturn’s rings.

I spin my red pupils as the Moon spreads its wings.

My followers bow low to the pink cotton candy sky,

And I chant loudly, begging destiny for an alibi.

The wind twirls my long skirt into the Milky Way

As I lower my bejeweled head in a modest display.

We pray to the gods like they don’t live among us,

Then turn our tongues and call other people fungus.

But you do what you have to, I am the prophecy.

I will fill your cup with venom and watch you bleed.

-Jackie

I keep running out of pages to stain with my ink,

I keep running out of people to grab as I sink.

They call me an anchor, a dead weight, a pity.

They tell me my sadness could drown this city.

But secretly they want to watch it all unravel.

I am just a test run, an echo of a gavel.

My doom satisfies them more than a rich meal,

And my joy trips them up like an Achilles’ heel.

I keep smothering myself with their intentions,

I keep catching on fire from the lingering tension.

They watch me being torn apart like a page,

And they clap as the pieces whirl off the stage.

-Jackie

Hope tells you that my young mind can be changed,

But you used to know me when I hid my rage.

These lines that you write sound like nothing happened,

Like I fell on your dagger, but it did not matter.

Some try to tell me that these grey storms will pass,

But I notice when the ceiling is made out of glass.

Anything would be better than your fake smiles.

Do you ever punch your gilded bathroom tiles?

You shattered me quickly and with high precision.

All I did was made you relive your poor decisions.

You know what they say about making your bed.

If you shoot the front runner, you will not get ahead.

Hope tells you things, but your conscience does not.

You crossed the red line, and you did not stop.

Go and find your closure anywhere but here,

Go and bury my ghost, I will not shed a tear.

-Jackie

We were putting out fires wherever we looked,

We saved the pages in this star-crossed book.

The headlines painted you as another paladin,

Then cursed me for acting like a mannequin.

We danced hand in hand on the steepest hill,

Absorbing the danger like a sweet pill.

Somebody called my boldness just a farce,

Then re-wrote your name on a rising star.

You know you deserve all the glory you get,

But we swore to fight them until our deaths.

Now you embrace all the polished covers

While they rip apart my friends and lovers.

Maybe this is for the best, maybe I failed,

Maybe my pain is chasing its own tail.

We were at the top, but you stepped higher.

They pulled us apart and put out my fire.

-Jackie

These secondhand lovers keep wasting my nights,

They keep spilling my lust, flying feelings like kites.

Your dark gaze grounds me, but only for a moment.

We both know you are not a worthy opponent.

The glitz and the glamour of passion revolts me.

Each new love I find quickly rots and turns moldy.

I wish I could soak up your brown eyes with mine,

Playing truth like a violin on your bare spine.

But we have played that game in some lonely nights.

My skin gets tired of your violent delights.

So, I fill every second with counterfeit lovers,

Dreaming one day they slay me,

Then kill each other.

-Jackie

My face gets bruised, but you don’t ever worry.

I’m the girl surviving until the end of the story.

I lose my shoes as the midnight train passes by,

But you don’t ever hear my wounded battle cry.

The thoughts in my head spin so fast I fall down.

There’s nobody worrying about me in this town.

I must wonder – are they going to be surprised?

Are they going to leave when I drop the disguise?

They must suspect that my exterior’s deceiving.

It’s been a decade since they’ve seen me bleeding.

My eyes turn red, but don’t you ever worry.

As they bury you alive, I will howl my faux “sorry”.

-Jackie

My youth gets brushed under yet another rug,

It gets thrown into this muddy grave that I dug.

They take me for granted, they call me naïve.

They think I dream about them when I fall asleep.

But there are parts of me that rarely see the light,

And I keep them chained, keep them out of sight.

They think I am a bit too kind to walk away.

My demeanor lets them think I will sweetly obey.

Still, every once in a while, I gasp in sharp pain.

I remember how it feels to snap necks and be vain.

My mouth is a dagger made to cut your ego.

I am a cruel god slashing self-proclaimed heroes.

So, tell me – why do I suffocate on a Saturday?

You molded me for years, then stepped in the clay.

Do not let the pleasantries fool you for a second –

You should have known better,

And you should feel threatened.

-Jackie

She looks at me with this big, bruised ego behind her eyes.

She looks at me, but she does not know me just yet.

I stare, trying to see if this is a story where the hero dies.

I look closely, but she simply does not recognize me yet.

The twinkle in her gaze shakes nervously as she cackles.

I wish she could hear me, but she does not know me yet.

While she dances alone, they are putting her in shackles.

I will save her one day, but not right now, not yet.

She looks just like me, and her skirt sways just like mine.

She thinks she knows it all, but she cannot know me yet.

They will wash her thoughts, then stab her from behind.

She will blame herself, but she does not know rage yet.

-Jackie