Have you seen it? The darkness behind the eyes. Not the kind born of sleep but the kind that stares back. Where there was once laughter there is only the grinding of teeth. Where fire once lived only smoke claws at the lungs. The light doesn't vanish all at once. It begs. It flickers. It lies still. And in the end there is only hatred. Raw. Aimless. Endless. For them. For you. For me. They told me, "If you can see the dark, there is still light." A child's lie, warm and bloodless. "Maybe your hatred is the rot of hope." As if that made it noble. As if I hadn’t already carved that rot out and fed it to the flies. But rot means something once lived. And that is supposed to comfort me. I have seen the bones beneath the skin. Heard the smiles crack. Felt the way love festers when it's left too long in silence. I have sat with the shadows. Not beside me inside me. Knocking against the ribs. Pacing behind the eyes. All I see now is darkness. Where love once bloomed the petals have become blades. Where hope once stirred a sour wind whispers, "No one is coming. No one ever was." And I find myself smiling. Not from joy but from the freedom of having nothing left to lose. Let them call it madness. Let them call it grief. Let them call it anything they want. I call it clarity.