WHEN YOUR HALO SLIPS FOR GOOD, YOU HAVE TO WEAR YOUR HOOD
WHEN YOUR HALO SLIPS FOR GOOD, YOU HAVE TO WEAR YOUR HOOD
The verdict spreads quicker
Than the version that’s true.
By sunrise,
You’re yesterday’s warning,
Passed from lip to lip
Like borrowed mourning.
No witness.
Just whispers.
No proof.
Just people.
Every stare grows teeth.
Every silence bites.
Every handshake feels
Like borrowed rights.
You can scrub your hands
Till your knuckles split,
But some eyes
Only see the dirt
They arrived with.
Funny, isn’t it?
The ones who never carried you
Carry the story furthest.
They fold your whole existence
Into one bad evening,
One wrong doorway,
One loose decision.
Now every laugh sounds loaded.
Every pause feels planned.
Every room grows smaller
The moment you stand.
You shrink without moving.
Speak less.
Sleep less.
Trust less.
Become less.
Not because you’re guilty—
Because you’re tired.
Tired of dragging
A shadow
That gets introduced
Before you do.
People love a fall.
It saves them
Climbing.
It gives them
Someone else
To point at
While their own cracks
Stay out of sight.
So they keep throwing yesterday
Across your tomorrow,
Hoping enough pieces stick.
And they do.
Until strangers look at you
Like they’ve already met
The worst of you.
The moment arrives
When every glance
Already carries
Its own conclusion.
They stop searching
For what’s in your hands
And settle
For what fits their story.
You stop explaining.
Not because you’ve surrendered—
Because some minds
Made up the story
Long before
You spoke.
So you keep walking.
Not to prove them wrong.
To stop letting
Their version of you
Become your own.
Because the loudest judgement
Has buried more truth
Than it has ever found.
Copyright © S.R SORROWS | Year Posted 2026
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