Those Who Wear My Name

I mean them,

yes, those ones,

the ones who stand close enough

to call themselves my blood,

my people,

my own.

They speak it so easily,

like truth is a garment

they can put on for display.

“Family,” they say,

as if the word alone

can wash their hands clean

of everything they are not.

But I have seen them.

Not in the light

they perform in,

not in the rehearsed warmth

they offer the world,

but in the quiet spaces

where masks grow heavy

and truth forgets to hide.

Their deeds,

ah, their deeds betray them.

For what is closeness

when kindness is absent?

What is love

when it arrives sharpened,

wrapped in sweetness

only to cut deeper?

There is something in them,

something restless,

something dark

that breathes beneath their skin.

Evil does not always scream.

Sometimes

it smiles.

Sometimes

it sits beside you,

asks how you are,

and listens

only to measure

where to strike next.

Their hatred,

it is subtle.

Not loud enough

to be named,

not obvious enough

to be confronted,

but present.

Always present.

In the way they look at me

just a second too long.

In the way their words

carry weight, they pretend it isn’t there.

In the way silence follows

after they speak,

as if something unseen

has just passed between us.

And their smiles…

Their smiles are the most convincing lie.

Soft.

Welcoming.

Familiar.

Like lovers at first glance,

the kind that makes you believe

in something gentle,

something safe.

Oh, but I know better now.

Those smiles

are painted,

practiced,

perfected for deception.

They curve just enough

to hide the truth,

never enough

to reveal it.

Oh no,

they are not

who they claim to be.

They are echoes of loyalty

without its soul,

reflections of love

without its warmth.

They wear closeness

like a borrowed face,

one they return

the moment I turn away.

And I,

I have learned to see.

To look beyond the words,

beyond the gestures,

beyond the fragile illusion

they try so carefully to maintain.

Because blood does not make truth.

And proximity

does not create loyalty.

And those who call themselves mine,

yet walk in shadows against me,

are no longer mine at all.