Damned

Damned if I do.
Damned if I don’t.
Speak my truth — I lose you.
Stay silent — I lose myself.

They say be honest,
but only if it’s pretty.
They say be real,
but only if it’s filtered.
What they really want
is comfort,
not truth.

So I wear the smile.
Play the part.
Say what I must.
Feel what I don’t.

But inside?
A fire.
Unlit rage, quiet storms,
a thousand unsaid things
burning holes in my chest.

If I move, I’m too much.
If I stay still, I’m nothing.
Too cold. Too soft. Too blunt. Too complicated.
Pick a side, they say,
but both are traps.

So I walk the tightrope,
between who I am
and who they want.
Between peace and pressure.
Between silence and scream.

And maybe that’s the curse
to feel everything too deeply
in a world that feels nothing at all.

Damned for caring.
Damned for not.
Damned if I break.
Damned if I pretend I’m fine.

But here I am.
Still standing.
Still burning.
Still writing.

I no longer care to be understood.
I’m not here to be safe,
I’m here to be real.

So damn me.

But I’ll still speak.
Still walk in truth.
Still hold the line — even alone.

Because even if I’m damned,
at least it’s on my own terms.

K.