Phase 1: The Return to the Old Ways
SELF REFLECTIONIDENTITYBOUNDARIES
I was walking with my chest open,
Heart swinging in the wind like a lantern in a storm.
I thought the world was safe enough to see it burn bright.
But every hand that reached for it
Was just looking for kindling.
So fuck that.
I’m going back to the old ways.
The hard ways.
The you don’t get close enough to bleed me ways.
Stone stacked on stone.
Mortar mixed with distrust and a healthy dose of rage.
Brick… by fucking brick.
I remember when I used to leave the gate unlocked,
Thinking mercy would keep the wolves fed.
But mercy just made them hungrier.
Every smile had teeth,
Every promise was a sharpened blade in the dark.
I’m going back to the old ways.
The hard ways.
The you don’t get close enough to bleed me ways.
Stone stacked on stone.
Mortar mixed with distrust and a healthy dose of rage.
Brick… by fucking brick.
You don’t get the key anymore.
Hell, you don’t even get to see the door.
Every, “How’ve you been?” gets a nod,
Every, “Tell me what’s wrong,” gets a wall.
And every time someone says “You’ve changed,”
I’ll smile and say “You’re damn right.”
Because love was the battlefield I kept crawling back to,
Thinking maybe the bullets would stop if I just laid still long enough.
But the truth is
Some wars don’t end.
They just change uniforms.
And I’ve been saluting the wrong flag for too damn long.
So now, I train in silence.
Sharpen my words like bayonets.
Keep my back to the wall and my eyes on the exits.
Every lesson I’ve learned is carved in scar tissue,
And I wear it like armor you can’t buy.
I’m going back to the old ways.
The cruel ways.
The I don’t owe you my blood ways.
Every wall a fortress,
Every door a riddle with no answer.
Brick… by fucking brick.
If you see me on the road,
Wave, but keep moving.
If you hear my name,
Know it’s not an invitation.
Because I’m done offering open hands
Only closed fists and locked gates now.
Phase One is over.
Now we prepare for Phase Two.
