Am I really unfolding myself into the hands of my enemy—as if I was sealing my fate?

That is what you thought. Scratch it because it is wrong.

Said he, "Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the wokest of them all"

But I prefer to tell it by suspense. It is what is, honey.

You cannot escape death, truth or worse, me.

You may run anywhere in the world, I won't chase you; you may hide, change identity or much better, **** yourself— but your conscience and guilt will do its favor for me to hunt you down, and come crawling back to me, pleading for forgiveness, on your knees.

I might just want to **** you in one blow, nuh uh. I won't play that game that way.

Karma is doing its job right now, payback time for the pain you caused me.

I am hands free, washed my hands and raised it for everyone to see, for I am not everyone's accomplice.

Be not like Judas Iscariot, my dear;
Selling me to your mother, with your cooked and made-up stories
But I will be like Peter, that even I denied God, he still understood me.