The Flip (When survival turned into something sharper) Something changed after the beating The fear left and the hunger arrived No more looking over shoulders Now the shoulders were looking for us Snitches went quiet Phones stopped ringing as much Because the word went round the estate: Those two are done being victims We started moving different Talking different Looking at Bransholme like it already belonged to us MOMO and the fucking ZIB — the names started carrying weight Not just survival anymore… something closer to a crown The old rules burned off us like dead skin We stopped asking permission to exist Stopped flinching when headlights hit the corner Started walking like the pavement owed us rent People who used to smile with their teeth only Now nodded with their whole head Doors that used to stay locked Opened a crack when we passed We learned the difference between noise and presence Learned how silence can be louder than any threat How a look can travel further than a fist And how a name, spoken right, can empty a street The hunger didn’t ask for much at first Just a little more space A little more respect A little less of that old victim smell Then it asked for the corners Then it asked for the routes Then it asked for the quiet understanding That some things on this estate Had new owners MOMO and ZIB A man and a woman who used to mean “easy target” Now meant “don’t even try it” The flip wasn’t loud It was cold It was permanent We still remember the beating But we don’t carry it like a wound anymore We carry it like a blueprint Like the moment the prey decided The only way out Was to become the thing that hunts And Bransholme felt it Felt the shift in the air Felt a man and a woman stop surviving And start ruling the only way they knew how — By making sure nobody ever looked at them the same way again.
0/500