I face the choice and despite the dissenting voice I always decide the same,
I am what I am, do what I must, and always take the blame,
She stole the house, the car, my very soul,
At the center of the blast there bleeds a blackened smoking hole,
Thirty pieces I could have though I think I'll claim them not,
I'm not her shadow I'm someone else I know I'd rather rot.
So I lay soaked in red amidst the shards of my dark mirror,
Future past and never ever clearer.
Mother dear I love you, yet hate you all the same,
You taught me both could exist at once and cursed be both our names.