For three years I had seen the world through a her-colored lens
Now I'm jaded by the shade of her perspective on who I am
it doesn't matter when the truth is subjective
women are weapons when you trigger them
forcing me to be bigger than the moment
there are things I can hold
when my temper unfolds
it's origami in her hands
she demands I bend to distraught decisions
but I don't give in
because I'm too stubborn to be stupid
so I'm aborting
and baby, I do love you
but I can't afford to ignore
the horrible truth
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