the man who hides no secrets
The man who hides no secrets
doesn’t whisper in corners
or polish his lies
before handing them out.
He drinks his coffee black,
says what he thinks,
and doesn’t care if the room goes quiet
after the words land.
People lean in when he talks.
Not because he’s loud,
but because he’s real.
Because there’s no performance.
No costume.
No carefully rehearsed bull crap.
His opinions are respected
because they come from scars,
from nights on dirty mattresses,
from watching friends disappear,
from surviving things that would fold
most men in half.
He doesn’t pretend to be wise.
He just tells the truth
and lets it stand there naked.
Some here hate him for it.
Some here fear him.
But everyone here listens.
Because in a world choking on lies,
an honest man
sounds like thunder.
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