Jocelyn Theresa Cook Poet Rhyme

Pointing fingers

You liar, cheat, a hollow shell,
A walking storm, a private hell.
Your words are knives, your smile’s a mask,
You fail at love, at every task.

You’re selfish, cruel, a parasite,
A shadow feeding off the night.
I curse your name, I spit, I sneer,
The world’s much worse with you still here. 

But wait this rage, this bitter plea,
The mirror cracks… oh , it’s me

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Jennifer Wallace May 14, 2026 at 4:53 AM Jocelyn, this is raw, sharp, and incredibly effective. The intensity pulls the reader in immediately, but that final turn—“The mirror cracks… oh, it’s me”—completely reframes everything in the most powerful way. In just a few lines, you move from accusation to self-revelation, and it lands hard. Honest, unsettling, and deeply human. Very well done.

Kim Rodrigues May 12, 2026 at 1:28 PM An ending I wasn’t ready for. Time to be kind to yourself too! Great rhyme!