Mirror Frame

[ Lyrics ]

I lived in your frame, forgot my name.

Staring at the wall where I’m ten feet tall,
silk on my skin, a look I don’t recall.
You cropped the doubt, you lit the shame,
airbrushed the nights I called your name.
This isn’t me — it’s a version you chose,
draped in shadows and poetic prose.
No blink, no breath, just a frozen stare,
like I never cried, like I never cared.

And the glass don’t crack, but I’m splitting inside,
watching my reflection lose all of its pride.
You framed me in gold, hung me up like a prayer,
but I’m not a saint — I’m just standing there.

I lived in your frame, forgot my name,
every curve a lie, every shadow the same.
You called it divine, but it’s not who I am —
I’m the girl behind the print, whispering: *I am*.

You never asked how I sleep at night,
or why my voice softens when I lie.
I wore the dress you said made me *ethereal*,
but it pinched my ribs and made me feel... smaller.
I mimicked the muse, smiled when told,
collected your praise like a story retold.
Now the silence screams — no lens, no stage —
just me and the truth in this empty apartment.

And the walls don’t speak, but they echo my shame,
I posed for your world, now I don’t know my face.
You loved the illusion, ignored the debris —
so I’m picking up pieces no one else can see.

I lived in your frame, forgot my name,
every curve a lie, every shadow the same.
You called it divine, but it’s not who I am —
I’m the girl behind the print, whispering: *I am*.

Maybe beauty’s not something borrowed or staged,
maybe it’s the crack in the voice when I rage.
Maybe it’s the way I still stay, still create,
even after you turned me to décor and fate.

I’m not your portrait. I’m not your refrain.
I’m the hand that will write me, then write me again.

I lived in your frame, forgot my name,
but the mirror cracks now — I’m learning it right.
You called it divine, but I’m choosing my flaws,
I’m the smear on the lens, not the light in your laws.
I’m the draft, not the masterpiece. The wound, not the flame.
The girl behind the print — finally saying my name.

...Jasmine.