Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
Nothing startles me now.
I have traversed the corridors of illusion
where truth hangs thin as smoke
and loyalty dissolves at the first tremor of desire.
I have watched affection molt into treachery,
seen devotion fracture like brittle glass
beneath the quiet weight of ambition.
The spectacle no longer unsettles me.
I have memorized its script.
Your betrayal was a ruthless tutor.
It pried open the sealed chambers of my innocence
and ushered in a colder, clearer dawn.
Where I once trusted without armor,
I now discern the tremor beneath every vow.
Your lies,
Ah, your carefully embroidered lies
did not unmake me.
They refined me in their fire.
Each false word etched wisdom into my marrow,
each deception honed the blade of my perception.
I no longer crumble at the unveiling.
I no longer tremble at the mask slipping.
For I have seen the architecture of duplicity,
its fragile scaffolding of pride and fear.
What once would have shattered my spirit
now merely sharpens it.
What once would have drowned me in sorrow
Now deepens my sight.
You imagined your betrayal as a storm.
But it was a forge.
You imagined your deceit would undo me.
But it was my awakening.
Nothing shocks me anymore.
I have stood in the ruins of trust
and discovered not devastation.
But revelation.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
Comments