Thinking Out Loud

Looking into the mirror
Scratch that, looking through the mirror
Is this you?
Is this who you have become?
A butcher, a serial killer rather
A product of my environment
Or is it neglect ?
Guess I have always been this way
Yea, I murdered mama
So I was told
For me to draw my first, she had to draw her last
You’re a good boy
At least, I used to be
I take the blame but,
but, papa was never there
Siblings always blaming me
It’s just me against the world
Mba, me and my weed of course
Not forgetting my baby, ‘bullet’
Think I have discovered my calling
I deserve a place beside the devil
Or should I overthrow him?
Hell also needs change, right?
But wait, is that a policeman?

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