[Intro] The sentence leaves. The room goes still. I know that silence. I know who taught it. [Verse 1] A minor disagreement. Nothing worth a scar. I reach for something cruel and take it twice as far. Find the thing you trusted me to never use— Put it in a sentence I can’t undo. You stop explaining. Let your shoulders drop. I have the answer, but I cannot stop. Every word comes harder when you don’t reply. I mistake surrender for a sign I’m right. [Chorus] I swore I’d never sound like you. Now someone’s scared of me. The words come out the way yours do— So sharp, so easily. I wanted you to hear me out. I made you afraid to speak. [Verse 2] There’s a photograph of us at twenty-three: Same crooked smile, same space between the teeth. People call it something to be proud of. I used to think resemblance stopped where skin does. But here’s that little laugh before the insult. Here’s the turning of a question into fault. Here’s “You’re too sensitive” delivered through a sneer. Your favorite way to make the damage disappear. [Refrain] I wasn’t there when you learned it. You weren’t here when I said it. There’s no one else To leave this with. [Chorus] I swore I’d never sound like you. Now someone’s scared of me. The words come out the way yours do— So sharp, so easily. I wanted you to hear me out. I made you afraid to speak. [Breakdown] No fist. No bruise. Still watching Every move. I didn’t touch you. I hear myself insist. As though that makes it nothing. As though that settles it. [Bridge] You ask if we can talk tomorrow. I almost ask you what that means. Then notice how you’re holding your sleeve, Pulling it over your fingers. I used to do that. I’d forgotten. [Final Passage] You say, “It’s fine.” To calm me down. You say, “I’m tired.” And study the ground. I know those words. I know that trick. I used them every night When I was six. You look at me The way I looked at him.
