My laugh’s a jagged blade, slicing through this cell’s dead air. each cackle a scream I can’t choke back. It’s me, spitting words that twist like smoke, mocking the clean world that wants me muzzled. The greasepaint cracks, a clown’s mask stretched thin over the ache.
They call it madness, but what if it’s just sunlight refusing to dim? What if every laugh is a flare, raw, defiant, burning through the bars? Freedom’s a lie they sell to keep us quiet, but this laugh… this laugh is my truth.
You can cage the man, call him broken, but you can’t muzzle the sun.
