Fuck the ones who manufacture damage, then manage the narrative, Package the panic as “dramatic,” act passive and charitable. Fuck the joker with a captive crowd, calibrating every laugh, Quiet target, loud performance then surprise when someone snaps. Fuck the “honest” little sadist using truth as camouflage, Cuts you open, calls it candour, calls your bleeding sabotage. Fuck the ones who spot a weakness, press it, test it, make it bleed, Then declare the wound “attention” when attention’s what they need. Fuck the hand that starts the fire, films the smoke, then acts confused, Crops the cause out of the picture, leaves the consequence accused. Fuck your “They’re too sensitive.” You knew exactly where to press. You don’t get to name it humour when the punchline’s her distress. Fuck the excuse. You knew what it did. Fuck the excuse. You chose it and hid. Not fuck the weak. Not fuck the lost. Fuck every hand that knows the cost. Fuck the friend who knew the history, still handed him the key. Fuck your “hard position”. Hers was harder. You were free. Fuck the boss who saw the damage, checked the logo, saved the name, Called the truth “a private matter” so the profit stayed the same. Fuck the ones who preach “keep peace” when what they mean is “keep it buried.” Peace meant she was made to leave while he stayed safe and ordinary. Fuck the witness with the screenshots saying, “Maybe it’s complex.” You read every word he sent her. You knew what was coming next. Fuck the ones who wait till she has gone, then swear they “always knew.” Where was all that brave conviction when she needed it from you? Fuck “I didn’t want the drama.” No, you didn’t want the cost. So you left her with the damage, then complained about what you lost. Fuck the excuse. You knew what it did. Fuck the excuse. You chose it and hid. Not fuck the weak. Not fuck the lost. Fuck every hand that knows the cost. Fuck the one who held her while she cried, then invited him back in. Fuck the one who called it healing when it only helped him win. Fuck the one who heard “I’m scared” and answered, “Don’t make me decide.” You had made it. You chose comfort. You just dressed it up as sides. Fuck your timing. Fuck your doubt. Fuck the way you froze her out. Fuck the call you never made. Fuck the price you let her pay. You saw it. You knew. You checked who was watching. You chose what protected you. Don’t say “no choice.” Don’t say “not clear.” You understood. That’s why you disappeared. You knew what silence bought. You knew who paid. You knew exactly why you stayed. Fuck the excuse. You knew what it did. Fuck the excuse. You chose it and hid. Not fuck the weak. Not fuck the lost. Fuck every hand that knows the cost. FUCK THE EXCUSE! FUCK THE EXCUSE! FUCK THE EXCUSE! FUCK THE EXCUSE! FUCK THE EXCUSE! FUCK THE EXCUSE! FUCK THE- FUCK THE EXCUSE!
