Brutal / No‑Shits‑Given Ditty

Brutal / No‑Shits‑Given Ditty —

I speak in scorch marks. I arrive when the excuses rot. I bloom like a warning flare — truth first, feelings later. If it burns, it’s because it’s real.
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t back down. My folder is full of fact. I get there eventually — slow, steady, inevitable.
And you will wait. I will be heard. Not necessarily politely.
Fact needs no buffer. Not quietly — but with clarity. And now — more likely read.
I now have permanent words.

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Hello Wall - Hormonal Heart Poetry

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