What are you tryna do? I’m somewhat confused.
Why are you on the ground, acting like you’re bruised?
Why is it dat you seem to suffer?
When I was the one who had it tougher.
And even though I couldn’t have had it rougher,
I wished at least you were happy, duffer.
A little of smartness, with a hint of heart.
Your special recipe. Your perfect black art.
I was the one left with a bleeding heart.
So why are you acting like you’re the one hurt?
The beautiful dream that I so lovingly built,
Covered in red with the blood that you spilt.
You chose to be the one holding the hilt.
So why all of a sudden, the facade of guilt?
I was the one caged in what was your lair.
So why do you seem like the one in despair?
You take the blame and act…
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