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My Confession

So, I have a confession, and it’s not the conventional type. It’s not the sort of confession

That shows its colours, wiggle down and is valid till night. See, I have a confession, and

I promise it won’t bite. I tend to lie about these things, but this time I fear I’m right.

No, I have a confession, and I’ll tell you if I might, but just be honest with me – like you’ve

Done most times, I mean, most times – quite.


Yes, I have a confession, perhaps you’ll be surprised when it hits. But then by now,

I’m already certain, you already know precisely what it is. Well, I have a confession,

not as pretty as gold and glitter, maybe to you it’s ugly – I mean you do know me better.

Look, I have a confession, besides the beautiful lights, why each time I try to say it my chest is getting so tight?


Okay, okay, I have a confession, but just give me a moment please, to collect my composure

And to just put my mind at ease. Listen, I have a confession, I – no, no

you know what it is, but why I have to say it – stop!

His confession, his. But, I have a confession, I’ve been waiting for you, no that’s not the confession, I’m still trying to break it to you.


I breathe. You breathe.

Here we go again.

I have a confession – tres bien.


Forget my confession, I’ll take it to the grave. Yes, I know I should say it, yes, I know I should be brave.


But I don’t want to be disappointed,

Even though I know, I will, so I’m sorry

Ma tete de poulet,

to confess – I never will.




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