I Lost All My Friends Overnight—Because I Refuse to Lie (Original Raw Poem)

(此文為英文版自創詩詞部落格，愈看中文版遊記請點以下連結/ This blog is the English version of the review &blog; for the Chinese blog, please click on the link below)： 

The Inability to Lie

I am not cruel.
I am precise.
I do not sharpen knives;
My tongue forgets to cover itself.
The wound is an accident, but blood does not care about intent.
which suggests that the blood I was born with a conscience too loud for this world—”
I learn an alarm inside me that never learn the difference
between fire and toast.
It rings for everything.
Every word.
Every word I breathe becomes an inconvenience to another soul.
I continue to study the architecture of the mind,
the way monks study scripture,
the way surgeons memorize arteries,
hoping that knowledge might numb me.
It doesn’t
It only gives me knowledge of a better vocabulary.
I know why I am this way.
I know the theories, the schemes, the attachment maps,
I will love without expecting to be loved back.
If I remember nothing, I can never contradict myself.
I know this about myself because honesty is always important, and it will make you feel heard and understood, which is what you need.
I was wrong.
Honesty doesn’t save me. It doesn’t,
Instead, it isolates me with surgical precision.
Every time I speak, the room goes silent.
Not the god kind of silent, but the disrespectful kind,
the clumsy kind that gives people the pause:
“Why would they even invite you in?”
I watch the micro-expressions flash like warning lights.
The faces change before my eyes.
They never taught me to read fast enough.
I am not supposed to be cruel.
But the truth is, undiluted alcohol on a raw wound.
And I pour it anyway,
then stand, shaking.
Apologizing too late.
The pain of being alone is real, but sharing your vulnerability can remind you that you are not truly isolated.
The worst part is knowing exactly why.
I hurt the people I love most
because I trust them enough to forget fear.
I forgot the strategy.
I remember the performance.
I forget that most living beings thrive on slight distortions—”
Consciously or not, we all tell white lies at one stage.
I don’t have that skin.
The instant damage is done,
It gets me second.
I am not the first one to respond.
Then, it hits me——
The chest caves in:
As if gravity has remembered my name all of a sudden.
My gut drops,
My hands go cold,
and I start breathing shallowly in embarrassment.
“Shame always appears, not as a thought,” thereby suggesting that
it is not a thought, but as a temperature.
I replay the sentence.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Had I chosen to stop there.
If only…
If I have replaced one word.
If I have lied—just a little.
Then…
Harmony could’ve still been intact.
Instead, I weep in honesty like a criminal—
Silence is
who turned themselves in
because the suspects are accused of a crime nobody has asked them to confess to.
People believe loneliness means being unlovable.
No.
Mine is the result of being too exacting.
Too exposed,
too inept to edit my own soul.
I’m middle-aged and friendless.
not because I have no warmth,
But this is because heat becomes scalding without insulation.
I loathe myself for my feelings – not because of what,
but why, is beyond me.
There is fatigue
in being honest perpetually.
A bone-deep weariness
from carrying one’s moral compass
That does not let you sit down.
I don’t want to vanish.
I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.
By living a life of truthfulness.
If you read this and are faint of heart,
Good.
It means that you are close enough to view its details:
this is not drama—
This is erosion.
A worn-out person
not by evil,
but by integrity that shows no mercy.
And yet—
I wake up.
I speak.
I fail.
I regret.
I try again.
As it were, even now
with all this wreckage,
I do not know how to be anyone else.

I Lost All My Friends Overnight—Because I Refuse to Lie (Raw Poem)Ta