Prose
Trapped by My Moral Imposter
First, you must whisper the secret. Maybe no one else will believe you, but you know it is true. You are surviving in a world that cannot see you because you became invisible. You had no choice. Begin by recognising how that feeling was built. Before you had language, something inside you learned to sound like morality to keep you alive. This is what has been wearing your voice. This is your Moral Imposter. It does not argue or explain. It just announces. It does not care who you are or what you value. It has one task only: how do we prevent harm completely? Understand the nature of this feeling. It is safety-driven, not values-driven. It formed under conditions where survival mattered more than meaning. It borrows moral language because morality is the strongest internal authority available. That is why it sounds like conscience. That is why it feels absolute. But observe how it behaves. It cannot weigh outcomes. It cannot accept repair. It does not recognise proportion or context. It escalates everything into threat and calls that virtue. It was never built for living. It was built for containment. It was built to make sure something that bad never, ever happens again. Notice when the trap closes. Staying feels dangerous. Leaving feels dangerous. Rest acquires a charge. Absence starts to look like the only clean solution. When others see your restraint and call it “character”, or see your hesitation and call it “values”, do not try to live up to it. That is the trap. To create the exit, you must change the jurisdiction. Reasoning will not work. It does not update when satisfied. It will never die. You must cut the power. Take away the supply. This happens here and now. Stop asking: How do I meet this demand? Instead, reclaim the authority. Know that you are the only person who gets to decide what is ethical. Listen to the judgement telling you that you are a bad person. Realise this is not about you. It is about control. Say: No thank you. I am good. I have got this. I am a goddamn grown adult with my own morality. I will no longer listen to an imposter telling me that I am the source of all pain. Now, create the door and step outside. The door is the choice to leave. The alarm will always be there. The locked room will try to snatch you back. You will find yourself trapped there again. But when it happens, take a breath. Make the decision to leave. Create the door again. Expect drama to follow. It does not belong to your jurisdiction. The signals will continue, but you will no longer treat them as verdicts. Recognise them only as alerts from a system designed for safety, not meaning. Feel the pressure drop. Not relief. Not optimism. Just a sudden reduction in urgency, as if a rule you never agreed to has quietly lost standing. Movement no longer requires moral permission.
By Claire McAllen9 months ago in Poets
What Rage Feels Like
"Majority Fools" What's good for the goose, Is good for the gander. Wrap my neck in a noose, From all that damn slander. What is good for one, Is not good for all. Different lives are spun, Before we even start to crawl. I can talk and talk, Until I'm blue in the face. But your guidelines are chalk, That you refuse to erase. Singular in mind, Solitary in view, Keep on being confined, By everything you thought you knew. A line in the sand, So easy to cross, But your high demands, Mean endless lives are lost. But we have this system, That's confounding to me, It leaves so many victims, So much for "land of the free". But this is what happens, When you go by majority rules. Peoples lives are blackened, Because the majority are fools.
By Hannah Alexander9 months ago in Poets
4:44 Sovereign Edition
New Release: The 4:44 Sovereign Edition I am thrilled to share the final, definitive version of "Do Not Project Your Limitations onto Me." This project has been a deep personal journey into what I call my "Mythic Suite", a collection of scenes from a life lived widely, survived fiercely, and birthed through fire.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 9 months ago in Poets
