06/02/2026
Excerpt:
Tell your stories about all the things I have ever done wrong. Go ahead and make sure the world knows I am made of carbon and blood, scars, sagging skin, full of uneven bumps and bad tattoos. I’ll let your bad mouth, bad mouth me.
All you do is speak enough for both of us. I do not deny that I have likely hurt many someone’s, including you and yours. I make no defense because I am responsible and so have admitted painfully, humbly, on loud speaker and exposed.
However, don’t forget that while I gave you my tongue for piercing and all of it’s words, you left me to hang from those confessions. Like displaying my guts makes me lesser. I trusted you to love my humanity, to plant new soil where my mistakes made graves.
I never told stories of you standing still as grey haired bishops bled me on the floor at your feet. I didn’t feel the need to shine your fear of defending me in your face. You were probably more afraid you’d be next. So why would I contribute?
You see? There was never a dishonest bone in my dying body. The only fractures were when I could not do everything to your liking and you severed my limbs with your indifference to my efforts. So old friend, I’ll let you tell your stories.
Tell your stories about all the things I have ever done wrong. The world can know that I am made of carbon and blood, scars and sagging skin, full of uneven bumps and bad tattoos. They are mine and I came by them honestly.
