Working on something long-form for next week, in the meantime more cringe poetry.

Now she knows:
the moral arc bends toward nothing,
cruelty goes unpunished,
and those who speak
after trauma are silenced
by those who should listen.

She sits alone with their gift
the recognition that fairness
was always myth,
that speaking truth
earns only exile,
that the world breaks
its most authentic voices
and sleeps peacefully after.

They gave her clarity:
that survival requires silence,
that belonging demands complicity,
that authenticity is the luxury
of those with nothing left to lose.

trauma responses become evidence of instability,
speaking harm becomes causing harm,
the wounded are made responsible
for others' comfort with their wounding.

some nightmares have no morning,
some prisons have no exit,
some truths cost not just everything
but everyone.

difficult truths
die with their speakers
the mirrors they held up
reflect nothing now

they wanted her silent.
She thinks about
the deepest silence of all.