I was dying slow—
and I didn’t even know it.
My own body,
leaking poison
from a part I never questioned.
It showed up in flakes,
in fog,
in thirty extra pounds
I couldn’t explain.
The world said “lazy.”
Doctors said “depressed.”
No one said
“your blood is screaming.”
I stayed anyway.
Cooked.
Loved.
Held the line
while my body collapsed inside itself.
Then they cut it out.
That traitor.
That silent leak.
And just like that—
my skin cleared.
My thoughts came back.
My weight dropped like guilt.
Testosterone surged.
I didn’t “improve.”
I resurrected.
Now?
I don’t carry her.
I don’t carry sickness.
I don’t carry silence.
I carry fire.
I’m not the man I was.
I’m the man I was always meant to be—
finally unpoisoned.