No Halo No Horns

I keep getting read like a file in a room

Like the worst thing I said is the whole of the truth

Like a glare is a threat and a joke is a clue

Like the mess in my head is a case to pursue

But I know what I did, and I know what I didn’t

Know where I was wrong, know the lines I was skimming

I can own what is mine without owning their fiction

I can take my correction without taking conviction

I’m loud, I’m defensive, I talk like a weapon

But talking ain’t doing, and anger ain’t action

I don’t need a halo, don’t hand me the horns

I’m trying to be better than how I was formed

So if you watch me, then watch me—just watch what is true

Don’t build me a monster from what I could do

I got one life, one name, one chance to get through

And the whole damn point is: I don’t want to hurt you

But wanting ain’t magic, intent ain’t repair

I can mean something good and still fuck up the air

I can walk in too heavy, get loud, take up space

Then wonder why tension just walked in my place

That’s mine. I can own it. I don’t need a defense

I can learn where the line is before the offense

But don’t take that admission and stretch it to fit

Every rumor, accusation, assumption and shit

That’s where I get twisted—I’ll listen too long

Find the reason you hurt me, then call myself wrong

I’ll explain your behavior, excuse what you did

Then hand grown-man guilt to a fucked-up little kid

Nah.

Understanding your pain doesn’t make it my debt

I can know why you did it and not pay for it yet

I can love you and still say, “That part wasn’t mine”

I can care without carrying your weight on my spine

I spent years being useful, being tough, being funny

Being everybody’s backup while running on nothing

Being fixer and witness and shield and advice

Then wondering why being needed don’t feel very nice

Because valued and useful are not quite the same

One remembers the person, one remembers the gain

And I’m tired of confusing who calls when they need me

With who actually sees me, believes me, and keeps me

I’ve been looking for proof like I worked LP

Running footage on Luis, frame A through frame B

“What’s the pattern? What happened? What could I have missed?”

Till my own fucking memories look flagged on a list

Every pause gets suspicious, each gap gets a trial

Every ugly old moment gets dragged from the file

Like if I prosecute first, nobody else gets the pleasure

But shame is a liar with a fucked-up tape measure

It stretches one mistake till it covers a life

Turns “I could’ve done better” to “maybe they’re right”

Turns embarrassment into an unofficial confession

Turns self-reflection into self-directed aggression

So facts.

What happened?

What’s proven?

What’s mine?

What’s theirs?

Who actually spoke?

Who was actually there?

Was I careless? Then fix it.

Was I cruel? Make repair.

Was it falsely assigned? Put that shit over there.

No halo. No horns.

No savior. No beast.

No volunteering guilt just to purchase some peace.

I’m not harmless because I’m incapable of harm

I’m trying to be safe while still keeping my arms

Still keeping my voice, keeping teeth in my grin

Knowing strength isn’t evil—it’s what you do with it then

I can hurt with a sentence. I know that firsthand

I can make somebody smaller when I’m trying to stand

So I watch that more closely—not because I’m afraid

But because “I didn’t mean it” don’t erase what it made

And still—

Impact ain’t intent, either. Keep both in the frame.

You can say I hurt you without changing my name

Into every worst label that fear can invent

Accountability’s accurate or it isn’t accountability yet

I want fairness with teeth and compassion with sight

Enough mercy for context, enough nerve to say right

Enough nerve to say wrong without burying me

Enough room to grow up without rewriting history

Because I’m tired of proving I’m worthy of air

Tired of checking the room for who’s judging me there

Tired of taking the stand when nobody filed charges

Tired of making myself small because my presence feels larger

Maybe I’m charismatic. Maybe people do watch.

Maybe I’m louder than average and difficult to notch

Into somebody’s neat little category box

But unusual ain’t dangerous and strange ain’t a fox

I’m a father. A husband. A fuck-up. A friend.

A manager. Builder. Beginning and end

Of a thousand little versions that still answer “me”

And none gets the whole fucking biography

So when that final day comes and they tally my run

I don’t need “perfect man.” I don’t need “number one.”

I just want enough truth when the whole thing is done

To look back at the damage, the love, everyone—

And say:

I fucked up.

I repaired.

I got scared.

I stayed.

I got angry.

I learned.

I got burned.

I changed.

I was difficult sometimes.

I was generous too.

I stopped asking my shame what a good man would do.

And whatever they called me, whatever they saw,

I spent one fucking lifetime still choosing the law

That mattered the most when there wasn’t applause:

Do as little harm as you can.

Own the harm that you cause.

And don’t carry another man’s cross.