MORAL RECEIPT

Everybody’s good

when the camera’s on.

Everybody’s clean

when the dirt gets sponsored.

Smile.

Here comes the receipt.

⸻

Your moral speech

is beautifully written,

too bad your actions

went the other direction.

You rob all week,

then pray on Sunday,

drop one percent

and call it God’s money.

Big man, clean suit,

holy little grin,

charity selfie

with a landfill within.

You kiss your kids

with a mouth full of lies,

then sell their future

for a weekend high.

You drive electric

to save the damn planet,

but the battery screams

from a kid you never managed.

Eco-friendly ego,

luxury guilt,

green little halo

on a blood-made build.

You don’t want justice.

You want good lighting.

You don’t want peace.

You want clean branding.

Your brain got a lawyer

for every dirty act,

and he wins every case

when the mirror fights back.

⸻

Clean hands, dirty soul.

Big smile, black hole.

Talk that truth,

live that lie.

Wave at heaven

with a knife inside.

Clean hands, dirty soul.

Pretty mask, no control.

You say peace,

but your fist stays closed.

You say “love,”

but your heart foreclosed.

Moral receipt,

read it out loud.

You ain’t that good

when the lights go down.

⸻

You scream “tolerance!”

with a censor’s grin,

love free speech

till the wrong thought walks in.

You say “be yourself,”

then copy the crowd,

neon rebel

with a factory mouth.

Anti-capitalist hoodie,

corporate receipt,

rage against the machine

with branded-ass feet.

Free thinker?

Please.

You downloaded your soul

from a three-minute piece.

Breakfast processed,

opinion recycled,

brain on airplane mode,

ego on tribal.

You call it awareness.

I call it costume.

A rebel in a box

with a subscription room.

Everybody “healing,”

everybody “fine,”

eyes saying “help me,”

mouth saying “I shine.”

Plastic little smile,

self-help pose,

your whole damn nervous system

wearing church clothes.

⸻

“How are you?”

“I’m good.”

No, you’re not.

Your left eye

just filed a police report.

⸻

Same alarm, same debt,

same cubicle breath,

same lunch break scrolling

through somebody else’s success.

Wake up, work, pay, sleep,

call it a life,

then wonder why your soul

won’t come home at night.

You solve fake problems

with perfect little plans,

judge of the universe

with blood on your hands.

The verdict looks clean,

the paperwork shines,

but the system got fed

and the people got fines.

You call it order

when the poor stay quiet,

call it “public safety”

when fear starts buying.

You call it “common sense”

when your comfort wins,

then baptize the bullshit

and start again.

That’s cognitive dissonance

with a Rolex face:

a trash-fire conscience

in a marble place.

An error in motion,

a walking contradiction,

smiling at the camera

with a soul eviction.

⸻

Clean hands, dirty soul.

Big smile, black hole.

Talk that truth,

live that lie.

Wave at heaven

with a knife inside.

Clean hands, dirty soul.

Pretty mask, no control.

You say peace,

but your fist stays closed.

You say “love,”

but your heart foreclosed.

Moral receipt,

read it out loud.

You ain’t that good

when the lights go down.

⸻

You don’t need a demon.

You need a mirror.

You don’t need a sermon.

You need to see clearer.

You don’t need a movement.

You need one honest minute.

One room.

No phone.

No mask.

Just sit in it.

And if that scares you,

there’s the proof:

your whole damn life

was built to dodge you.

⸻

So keep your peace sign,

keep your closed fist,

keep your “good vibes”

with a blacklist.

Keep your Sunday halo,

weekday crime,

keep your fake deep quotes

and your dead screen time.

Keep your perfect answer,

keep your brand-new cause,

keep your moral outfit

with the clearance-tag flaws.

But don’t act shocked

when the truth pulls up,

kicks down the door

and drinks from your cup.

Because the lie gets tired.

The mask gets thin.

The smile gets cracked

where the rot gets in.

And one day the crowd

won’t clap on cue,

and all that’s left

is the real damn you.

⸻

Clean hands, dirty soul.

Big smile, black hole.

Talk that truth,

live that lie.

Wave at heaven

with a knife inside.

Clean hands, dirty soul.

Pretty mask, no control.

You say peace,

but your fist stays closed.

You say “love,”

but your heart foreclosed.

Moral receipt,

read it out loud.

You ain’t that good

when the lights go down.

⸻

Everybody’s good

when nobody checks the bill.

But the receipt remembers.

And it’s ugly as hell.