I am not the villain they whisper I am
not the shadow they sketch in the margins of calm
I am the same voice, the same steady frame
but my eyes have been burned by a far different flame

Once, I wore lenses the world understood
rose-tinted, dulled, shaped like “should”
They fit like comfort, like borrowed skin
and kept the silence safely in

But something shattered – quiet and deep
a crack in the shell that roused me from sleep
I saw the world not as I’d been told
but raw and trembling, fierce and bold

Now I speak with a tongue they call strange
like I wandered too far, like I’ve dangerously changed
They say, “Come back. Be soft again”
But that softness came from not seeing the pain

I can’t unknow what opened my mind
can’t trade this lens for the comfort of blind
To return would cost the parts I reclaimed
the dignity in truth, the strength in my name

This lens: it’s jagged, but mine alone
It cuts me sometimes, but it carved out my home
And while others may flinch at what I now see
it’s not darkness I serve
it’s the right to be free

So if I am cast as a storm in their sun
let them know I still love them, every one
But I won’t unlearn what my soul has found
sacred, unshaken, and morally sound