Yes, this is about you.

I wrote this months ago. I tend to create random things when I’m trying to cope. I’ve been thinking about recording it—just to have proof that it existed, that I got through it. A life receipt. But the shame still has me by the throat. The thought of people knowing, really knowing… it makes me hesitate. They already know too much.

MIRROR MIRROR TRIGGER

I was out of town for a while,
Just got back to the Six.
Find out my name is still on your lips.

I come at you direct,
And you not respond—with disrespect?
Throwin’ dirt on my name…
Gossip is your new game? Lame.

I cared for you deeply once…
So let the record show:
This is my third and last attempt—
So I’ll go verrrry slow…

I ain’t beggin’ for nothin’
But I’m prayin’ for somethin’.
Is the man I used to know in there…
Somewhere?

Can you help me find him?

I used to know a man who spoke in whispers, not lies.
A man who sat by candlelight—no mask, no disguise.
He told me once, "I like you more than you know."

Do you know that man?
Have you seen that man in the mirror?

I don’t know about this new guy.
Who is this guy?
This snake in the skin.
Distracted.
Feeding on pain.
Turning love into hate.

FUCK this new guy—
And fuck his fake love gang.

The irony of their claims
Is that it’s my name they defame.

The man I knew could look me in my eyes—directly.
He used to like to please me.
That man I let touch me.

I haven’t seen that man in a while.
Is he still in there… somewhere?

Can you tap into his frequency?
If so—look that man in the mirror
And tell that man to come find me.

I’ll be where peace and love can just breathe.

But don’t get it twisted—
Mirror, mirror…

Also tell that new guy
I’m rock steady
On the motha fuckin’ trigger.