Blood and Sinew

I took my river of tears, the bright revelations, the blinding pain, and even the stupid choices

I gathered them all like pieces of cloth and with bloody thread, I stitched together a robe

The epiphanies, the growth, the places I stumbled, the things that brought me shame - all of it - the very bone and sinew of each experience

A beautiful tapestry of vulnerability and honesty and the courage to authentically be. I wrapped myself in that robe. In my own Truth.

And there you stand.

Wrapped in a robe you didn’t even stitch. In a patchwork of platitudes and hallow, pithy memes

Parroting someone else's epiphanies. There is no blood - no sinew.

You’ve hidden your experiences, masked your mistakes, denied your pain. You romanticize your bad choices and gaslight Truth. Yet you stand there in that robe of dishonesty stitched together with lies

And you read my quilt. Judging each blood-drenched thread with superior eyes.