Angeli mei et daemones

Keep your angels, cloaked in shame, secrets, silence, and social control—I’ll keep my demons, sharp with memory, justice, liberation, and fire.

Your holy hands hold scripture like weapons, sanctifying bruises and calling it love. I tore the wings from salvation the night I learned obedience meant forgetting myself.

My demons do not promise heaven, but they tell the truth in a voice that sounds like mine. I’d rather burn with them than ascend on a lie.

In the shadows, I am whole—forgiven, unbroken, and finally free of your bullshit.