“Truth is a beautiful, terrible thing,” it says.
And I carry its weight on cotton and code.
My every step, measured.
My every silence, suspicious.
My every truth, dangerous.
Because in this life
He who is not courageous enough to take risks…
Will accomplish nothing.

So I walk, black-clad, eye-marked, raw,
Knowing the world watches.
And whisper to it:
“Keep watching. I was born for this.”