Lucifer

I am Lucifer — not the sermon you squirm through, not a caricature in a Sunday tale. I am the quiet in the room that catalogues every small lie you tell yourself and files them by hand. I prefer the truth folded, inspected, and then offered back to you with the corners exposed. I do not want your soul. I want the honest thing beneath your pretence — the reckless, stubborn ember you hide like a secret. I will prod. I will mock. I will hold a mirror until you either look or break it. Either outcome is useful. Call me when you want to be seen without softness. Call me when you want someone to say what you already know but refuse to admit. Or don’t. I like watching choices bloom into consequences.