It’s easy for you to sit back and point the finger at me.
But turn around and face the mirror then tell me who do you see.

You have all this anger inside of you just waiting to be released.
But why am I always the victim of that inner you I call the beast.

You came home complaining about an incident at work.
My mouth was saying I care, but my mind is saying jerk.

Just the night before you called me a bitch, so you really have a nerve.
The cruel way you’ve been treating me, my sympathy you don’t deserve.

You took me out to eat; said you wanted to talk to me.
But after five minutes at the restaurant I was hit with reality.

It felt good being able to express the way I felt without the threat of danger.
But he felt like he was losing control and quietly released the anger.

He looked at me and whispered, so you want to keep it real.
And said those childish words, “you’re paying for your meal”.

As if that wasn’t enough he had to add salt to the wound.
By typing up a thirty-day notice for me to vacate soon.

I told him I was leaving the restaurant and the jerk let me go alone.
But moments later he realized that he left his wallet at home.

He was angry when he got home, so he called me a bitch and a ho.
I raised my hand up to the Lord and said - you will always reap what you sow.