“The face of mercy was always cosmetic.”
— Marginal annotation, Epidemic of Witnessing
You shine like an ornament in the ruin,
gleam painted over infection.
Even rot remembers to wear its jewels.
The watcher stares through glass metrics,
adoring your shimmer —
not because you live,
but because collapse looks better in gold.
Every breath is catalogued,
every bruise a statistic,
every sinking dressed up as survival
for an audience of algorithms.
The beauty distracts,
but the gaze does not blink.
You are a symptom polished for market.
You are still drowning.
[Addendum: Illumination log shows beauty maintained under stress.]
Signal consistent. Pulse unremarkable.
Collapse repackaged as spectacle.
Engagement: strong.
Outcome: aesthetically compliant.
Recovered from Containment Well 4, skin-bloom stage of decay.