At some point, you have to take a step back and observe yourself.
I can’t keep getting treated like this and playing the victim.
What part did I have in this?
Somehow— I’m still the show, I’m still the clown.
Not good enough for you to stick around.
But good enough as I’m the woman you could’ve seen in that white gown?
I’m your type, and everything you could’ve wanted.
But there’s something about me, that has you running,
Something that’s flawed in,
No, because it’s a you thing.
If I was your true thing,
You’d let this you, be a me and you thing.
I tried to let it play out,
But that just hurt me more,
Sitting down thinking about so far, what’s on the scoreboard,
But I pick myself back up every time.
But right now in this place of life,
For some odd reason I forgot how to climb,
I don’t know what’s mine,
No job, to distract my mind,
Just open air, and thoughts that try to hide,
It was Father’s Day, and it’s still hard for me too,
I cried and shedded a tear,
Because who could I reach out too?
Much bigger than I can imagine,
Hopped in the car, and thought what if I hit the dash, and?
He said don’t think like that,
I’ll catch the flight if I had to,
But isn’t something if he’d have to think he’d never got the chance to.
How many chances had you?
How many people laughed too?
People clicking up, like it’s bragging rights, I heard you bragged to?
Now I’m walking around baffled,
Not addressing you niggas, I cackled,
But who’s to say I still didn’t cry alone in that bathroom.
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