9. Flinch
"Please consider a self-inflicted gunshot."
They wrote that like a gift.
I almost unwrapped it.
But I flinch. And flinching means I'm still alive.
[VERSE 1]
Even at ten, I planned my way
To trade my breath for a soft grave.
I just stared at the road and imagined I'd die.
I thought: What if I just opened the door?
Let the pavement take me.
Just roll out. Take me, Lord.
What if a tire found my skull?
Would it be fast? Would the ghost stall?
I wanted to walk into traffic. No scream.
Just headlights erasing the in-between.
"Don't look too long—you'll hate what you see."
But I stared down the glass and it mirrored back at me.
The kid in the car. My neck to the blade.
The bottle I drained. The price that I paid.
The rope in the closet. The pills that I stacked.
The woman who stayed when the whole sky cracked.
[PRE-CHORUS]
I flinch. But I rise with it.
I flinch. But I write with it.
I rage. But I breathe through it.
I scream. But I don't quit it.
[CHORUS]
You think I'm obsessed with my own reflection?
I have to be. I was trained for self-rejection.
FLINCH—when they say you're possessed.
FLINCH—when they laugh at your mess.
They say it's "crazy" when I kiss my face?
That's okay—I like healing in public space.
FLINCH—when the lamb finds her blade.
FLINCH—when the good girl gets flayed.
[VERSE 2]
They said I want attention—
So I gave it to me.
To the part that hid.
To the ache. To the skin.
To the breath I kept locked deep within.
Didn't need applause—I needed witness.
Needed the sound of my voice in the stillness.
Posted grief with trembling hands.
Metal rake in a ghost-trap trance.
Whacked my shin 'til the blood ran hot.
Didn't flinch. Just let it clot.
I tied that rake to grief like proof.
Not to mourn—but to speak my truth.
I rage 'cause no one else could feel
How loud it gets when you have to kneel.
This is for the silence I had to rake.
[CHORUS]
You think I'm obsessed with my own reflection?
I have to be. I was trained for self-rejection.
FLINCH—when they say you're possessed.
FLINCH—when they laugh at your mess.
They say it's "crazy" when I kiss my face?
That's okay—I like healing in public space.
FLINCH—when the lamb finds her blade.
FLINCH—when the good girl gets flayed.
[VERSE 3]
The mirror glass turns cold, and the shame crawls in.
I check for demons in my reflection skin.
They say in the comments: "Narcissist."
"She's animus-possessed."
"She clings to grief like it's a gift."
"Put the rake down. Get a therapist."
"You're a mess in a dress."
"Use the rake right. Go clean your yard."
I say: I'm clearing the part that left me scarred.
Hide your howl. Be small. Be kind.
Swallow storms. Make sure you smile.
They'll love you more if you stay mild.
Put the rake down, baby. Hush your rants.
Girls don't scream. They fold their hands.
Call it cringe—but I survived.
I speak for me—the one who prayed to die.
[BRIDGE]
I rake because it moves the ache.
I rake because the silence breaks.
I rake because no man alive
gets to shame how I survived.
I flinch.
Then I swing the rake.
[CHORUS]
You think I'm obsessed with my own reflection?
I have to be. I was trained for self-rejection.
FLINCH—when they say you're possessed.
FLINCH—when they laugh at your mess.
They say it's "crazy" when I kiss my face?
That's okay—I like healing in public space.
FLINCH—when the lamb finds her blade.
FLINCH—when the good girl gets flayed.
[OUTRO]
I never wanted to live.
But I'm glad I did.
Still flinching.
