#fameassacrifice
You were given a crown of thorns disguised as light,
a name that echoed in canyons not your own.
Now the world knows your face, but not your bones—
only the mask, polished and painfully bright.
First, the hunger:
They offered you honey, then devoured your hive.
Flashbulbs like knives at the window, carving your skin
into headlines, rumors, a sin
you never committed. Alive,
yet buried in the glare—a fossil in glass.
Then, the hollowing:
Your laughter became currency. Your tears,
a public river. Strangers claimed your years
as heirlooms. Love grew cautious, thin,
whispering "What do they want from us now?"
in empty mansions where the mirrors bowed.
Next, the haunting:
Not ghosts, but ghosts of you—
the child you were, the truth you knew
before the applause. Now only echoes remain:
a voice rehearsing lines in the rain,
a shadow pacing a gilded room,
chewing its freedom like impending doom.
Last, the harvest:
The earth knows what you sacrificed:
Sleep. Trust. The quiet kiss of dawn.
Your mind—a city under siege—
burns with the words "I don’t belong."
You traded your soul for a monument of sound,
and now the silence is the loudest wound.
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 4:42 AM UTC