MIRRORBALL VEINS(acoustic · stripped · aftermath) Verse 1 I cut the numbers out my phone, like sutures from infected skin. Now nobody calls after midnightto ask me where the hell I’ve been. The apartment sounds enormous sober. Every little noise becomes a ghost. Funny how when you stop destroying yourself, you notice everything you lost. There’s a dress still hanging in my closet from a party I don’t remember leaving. Sequins dull as fallen stars—mirrorball grief still clinging to the seams. And my God, I used to burn so brightly. Now I flinch at supermarket lights. Turns out numbness isn’t peace—it’s just fear with better marketing. Pre-Chorus Nobody warns you—you mourn yourself in stages. Chorus Now I’ve got mirrorball veins, shattered things that still catch light. Every stranger’s face becomesa room I ruined in another life. I wear silence like a bruise, long sleeves in July rain. Funny how getting cleanstill leaves blood inside the stain. Mirrorball veins…I glitter most when I break. Verse 2 My mother cried the first whole week I started looking healthy again. I think she finally realized I might not die—just live like this. And honestly? I don’t know which one scares me more. Because who am I without the chaos?Without the beautiful excuse? Who do lonely girls becomewhen they can’t romanticize the bruise? I spent years turning self-destructioninto something almost holy. Now every bathroom mirror feels like cross-examination under oath. There’s coffee going cold beside me. Birds outside I cannot hear. It’s terrifying—how quiet life gets once you run out of things to fear. Pre-Chorus Recovery’s ugly. Nobody writes songs about the middle part. Chorus Now I’ve got mirrorball veins, tiny wreckage in my blood. Every memory cuts different when you finally feel it sober enough. I keep finding little pieces of who I was before the flame. But grief is strange—sometimes healing just means learning all the damage by name. Mirrorball veins…look what survived the blade. Bridge Some nights I still sit on the bathroom floor just to see if I miss it. And that’s the part nobody says out loud—addiction doesn’t die. It waits. Patient as a loaded gun under the mattress of your worst days. Smiling like an old lover .Saying: “You were easier to love when you were disappearing.” And maybe that’s what kills me most—how many people preferred me half dead. Final Chorus Now I’ve got mirrorball veins, all these fractured little lights. Every piece of me still spinning through the wreckage of my life. And I swear I’m trying so hard to become somebody worth saving. But some nights I still feel my soullike an amputated limb aching. Mirrorball veins…glittering all over the drain. Outro The cruelest part of getting sober is remembering why you drank.
