You speak of pain as if you know it
You speak of hate, oppression, and devastation as if you have felt them
You speak of demons as if you call their names and of hell as if you have been there,
but you have also spoken of "flames of hope" and "shining stars"
You speak of death as a welcome visitor, you,
You who has never felt the ripe taste of rot blossoming in you mouth,
You speak of life as if you know it

You don't

And neither do I

Where is the dark?  The evil?  The pain?
Can it be found down a dark alley, or a savage city street?
Can it be bought for a price, then snorted or shot?
I need to learn to refuse to waste my days among the complacent
I need to be taught-
Led to his haven and the violent rape of the psyche,
with flashing images of blood, death, and the obscene,
Only to be washed away by the gentle rains of tears

and now lie,
broken, humbled,
having caught a glimpse of life on the perimeter

Where there are no stars

-Jackie-