I’m the unpaid intern in your head, clocking every crooked edit. Miracles get polished till they shine, bruises renamed prophetic. Your publicist wears holy water, tailors halos after dark. Turns coincidence to scripture, airbrushes daylight on the scars. “You meant to.” “You knew.” “You chose.” Cute campaign. Wrong room. I was there before the slogan learned to smile with perfect teeth. Truth don’t pound its chest. It clears its throat… then waits. I’m the last honest witness. Don’t ask me for a prettier scene. God never filed an affidavit. Love crossed wires with everything. Time never slowed for objections the clock just laughed outside the frame. Everybody wants redemption… I’m only here to say what came. I watched it. All of it. Without the costume change. Your memory runs a dry cleaner, pressing wrinkles out of shame. Adds violins to ordinary Tuesdays that used to sound plain. The PR team stays busy: “Call it growth.” “Call it fate.” “Call the wreck a sacred lesson.” Gravity keeps sending invoices for every beautiful exception. Closing statements fill the air, smooth enough to almost win. The verdict starts rehearsing long before the trial begins. I wait until the echo fades… then I tell the room what happened. The loudest voice usually arrived the latest. I’m the last honest witness. Don’t ask me for a cleaner cut. Some prayers never reached the ceiling. Some kisses landed like a punch. Time kept chewing through the evidence without an ounce of guilt or grace. Everybody writes a memoir… I remember the surveillance. I watched it. Frame by frame. Before the headlines came. Silence never answered questions. We translated anyway. Built entire civilizations out of echoes in a cave. The universe skipped the hearing we still reserved an empty chair. Prophets carried polished lanterns. Skeptics measured vacant air. Certainty sold postcards from a country never found. I’m still standing in the doorway, steady as a weathered nail… listening while polished stories drift beyond the truth they held. I’m the last honest witness. Don’t ask me for a better ending. I watched it earn its name. God never changed the record. Love objected… then withdrew. Time never took the stand it didn’t need to. The room had reached its favorite version long before I spoke. Your publicist shook my hand, thanked me for my testimony… then edited the transcript. I watched it. All of it. Without the costume change.
