Where Truth Fell

A poetic reckoning with betrayal, illusion, and inner rebirth.A poem for those who stood in fire and rose anyway.

Some truths are only born in fire. This poem is a reflection of what we learn when illusion burns away.

Where Truth Fell

Hell is empty—

because the devils walk among us.

Not with horns,

but with smiles.

They wear silk words,

whisper love,

and hide knives

behind the veil of forgiveness.

I’ve seen Heaven traded

for fleeting attention.

I’ve seen lies

strung in prayer beads.

And now I know:

there is more truth in Hell

than in this world

of painted saints.

At least the devils below

don’t pretend to be holy.

So let the gods watch.

Let angels weep.

I stood in love like Achilles—

barefoot in the fire.

And still they struck me.

But I did not fall.

I rose—

not broken,

but reborn—

with flame in my veins,

and truth on my tongue.

This world didn’t defeat me.

It revealed the illusion

I once mistook

for glowing light.

This poem was born from fire — and shared from healing. If it reached you, you are not alone.

If this resonated with you, share or comment — truth grows when it’s spoken.