bleeding

I learned how to survive
without the people the world thinks
were supposed to catch me.
I learned to build a life out of shit,
with my own hands.

I stay real even when the world
keeps asking the wrong questions.

They had so many chances to be
who they pretended to be for everyone else.
They weren’t there for me.
Not in the ways that mattered.

On the outside, they look kind.
They look like “good people.”
They look like the type you can turn to for help.

But I know.
And it isn’t just me who knows.

I know the conditions hidden behind the kindness.
I know the silence wrapped inside their smiles.
I know the love that was supposed to be unconditional
but came with tiny invisible contracts
they expected me to sign without reading.

They never gave it to me
the way they pretend they can give it to others.
They are good at managing appearances.
They are good at playing roles.
At offering just enough kindness in public to stay saints
in the eyes of people who never had to live inside the home.

Sometimes, the comfiest looking walls are the hardest cages.

I’m someone who finally knows what real love feels like
And refuses to settle for fake ever again.

If they were a safe option, I would not be here
bleeding my heart out in front of you.

Yet you all turned your backs on me.