Trigger Date: Dec One

December 1st, twenty-twenty…

This ain’t no flick. This ain’t no flex.

This was war inside the soul.

Let me show you what I felt that day…

Dec one, cold sun, boots hit that slab,

Uniform stitched tight, with the past in my bag.

M4 locked and loaded, no cap, no lag,

Face calm as a monk, but I’m ready to drag.

Shadows stretch long by them shipping crates,

Mind driftin’ off while I hold that weight.

That ain’t a prop in my arms, that’s my fate,

That’s my rage wrapped metal with a trauma plate.

I ain’t here for the glam, ain’t posed for likes,

I’m here for the ghosts that roam in the nights.

This for the homies that ain’t come back,

This for the demons I stuffed in my pack.

Camo wrapped on a born Capricorn,

Heart made cold from the nights I mourn.

Eyes red, soul torn, but my spine like steel,

They ain’t trained me for peace, just to aim and kill.

They said, “Fall in,” but I been fell off,

Emotion deadweight, gotta brush it off.

I march with that rifle like it’s part of my flesh,

Trigger like a tongue, it confess my stress.

Dec one, I ain’t blink, not a damn twitch,

Pose stiff as a coffin, brain make the switch.

I remember that morning, quiet like prayer,

But the air smelled thick with a hint of despair.

Uniform itchin’, helmet tight on my fate,

I done stood in formation where hearts vibrate.

You ain’t lived till you stared down your fear in a row,

With a barrel in your grip and a soul on low.

Every step on that concrete echo past sins,

My boots talk back with the pain within.

Behind that photo, I was breaking in folds,

But the camo concealed what could never be told. This ain’t no drill, it’s a memory burnt,

Where the barrel gets warm, and your innocence burnt. Dec one, that ain’t a date—it’s a blood pact,

Stuck in a stance while my youth collapse.

Seen homies freeze up when the shots rang out,

Now every pop make my nerves reroute.

Trigger discipline tight, but my thoughts stray wild,

Thinkin’ ’bout my moms, and my unborn child.

I ain’t sleep right since they issued me heat,

That M4 got secrets when it rest by my seat.

It whisper at night, “Who we takin’ next?”

And I whisper back, “Just aim at my chest.”

Yeah, you see me smilin’, but my jaw lock tight,

That’s survival mode—I been fightin’ all night.

They got us dressed like warriors, actin’ like we gods,

But even gods got doubts when the rifle nods.

DEC ONE, TRIGGER DATE, I WAS FROZEN IN FATE,

BOOTS LACED, SOUL TIGHT, WITH A STRAP ON MY WAIST.

I AIN’T HERE TO DEBATE, I’M A PRODUCT OF HATE,

THAT’S A PHOTO OF A MAN WHO ACCEPTED HIS PLACE. YEAH, DEC ONE, REMEMBER THE VIBE,

I WAS SMILIN’ LIKE DEATH WITH A KILL IN MY EYES.

THAT AIN’T CLOTHES ON MY FRAME, THAT’S ARMOR FROM PAIN,

I WAS POSTED LIKE A DEMON IN THAT DECEMBER FRAME. Flashbacks heavy, even now when I blink,

See red dots on foreheads when I sip or think.

That camo got ghosts stitched in the seams,

Each thread a scream, each patch a dream.

Dec 1st, I became my own myth,

A goat with a grip and a war-born gift.

Cried my cry staying systematic