This is my autobiography,
How I used to be a one way mirror.
Trapped behind it
Not allowed to tell you what I see.
Only showing you and what you want to see.
Not a single detail left in
So you couldn't see the imperfections, infecting your personal reputation.
Now a two way mirror
That tells you the "hard" truth,
Pointing out the reality in you're fragile morality.
Scaring you as you try to surround yourself with repeatable fallacies
But you can't hide
When your looking at me
Staring at yourself dead in the eye.
Saying goodbye
Your facade fades away in the fake world of play,
As I stand there
The truth on a silver tray,
Out there on display as it always has to this day.
Standing there
The same as before when I was a one way,
Caring for you the same,
Being there for you close and well behaved.
Yet you still are one way
For someone else to replay,
Having yourself full of what they want you to say,
Catering for their own dismay.
Everyone today seems to be in such disarray when the truth is presented,
Destroying their secure and fixed day.
Not sure how they'll live the rest of it
As they worry about what others will say,
Crumbling in on themselves
In such a pitiful way,
The cruel consequence
The silent mistake of their ways
Set up by society for everyone to obey.
The homeless person left to decay
Society left him to suffer
His mirror got shattered
Crying since he felt bad for the kids
Being sent to the clink.
Expressing themselves through art
They graffitied their shine of their mirrors tint
Putting their heart and soul into the print
Wanting to leave a mark before being forced to blend in
Screaming out till they are sprayed with seal like cement
Denied as they cry
Regretting the early days.
Where the system tried to change their two way down back
To the one fake, cruel, and primitive way.
Changing the mind when it's so fragile,
Like playing with play dough,
Turning them into the "best" kind of people.
The ones who say "support everyone"
Unless of course you disagree with their design,
Trying to force laws and put us in a line.
The cost of their new rights?
Our freedoms and idealism
Crying about our president
When he protects them all day.
Going against the systems
Which had raised them,
Complaining about the wrong doings
But not putting in effort to do anything.
Trying to change everybody in front of them
Wanting all that they see is the reflection of them
Insecurities secure
Unless you show the glimmer of yourself to them
Screaming accusations even though you didn't look at them
Being given a crime that has no justice
Rotting in a cell
Mirrors all around
These two way to show you the grim dark cell
Never one way so you can't think and reflect for yourself
