they moved like tide around a sinking stone
with cruelty so precise it left no trace
and eyes that never blinked long enough
to see themselves

they never needed proof
—just a whisper
a pause
a silence they could shape into guilt

getting chased isn’t always running
sometimes it’s standing still
while the walls close in
and the air forgets how to move

some of them smiled like saints in the daylight
clean hands, curated words, eyes made for witnesses
but I saw the shift—subtle, exact
the way their posture softened only when someone was watching

they didn’t need claws
they had applause
and the silence of rooms that swallowed my name

I wore their projections like a borrowed skin
tight, wrong, stinking of everything they never dared to confront in themselves
they dressed me in their shame
and gasped when it fit

can you please attempt to resemble something human
I asked
as they unstitched me / like I was never meant to hold together

this is the end of me
—the version you twisted
the script you authored
the character I never agreed to play

you wanted a monster
so you made one
but forgot monsters remember

I dreamed I was someone else
—because in your world, being myself
was the crime

so I cracked
softly
like old glass beneath bare feet

not to shatter
but to vanish

you’ll find no corpse
only dust
and the echo of a name
you never earned the right to speak

they moved like tide around a sinking stone
with cruelty so precise it left no trace
and eyes that never blinked long enough
to see themselves

they never needed proof
—just a whisper
a pause
a silence they could shape into guilt

getting chased isn’t always running
sometimes it’s standing still
while the walls close in
and the air forgets how to move

some of them smiled like saints in the daylight
clean hands, curated words, eyes made for witnesses
but I saw the shift—subtle, exact
the way their posture softened only when someone was watching

they didn’t need claws
they had applause
and the silence of rooms that swallowed my name

I wore their projections like a borrowed skin
tight, wrong, stinking of everything they never dared to confront in themselves
they dressed me in their shame
and gasped when it fit

can you please attempt to resemble something human
I asked
as they unstitched me / like I was never meant to hold together

this is the end of me
—the version you twisted
the script you authored
the character I never agreed to play

you wanted a monster
so you made one
but forgot monsters remember

I dreamed I was someone else
—because in your world, being myself
was the crime

so I cracked
softly
like old glass beneath bare feet

not to shatter
but to vanish

you’ll find no corpse
only dust
and the echo of a name
you never earned the right to speak