Heart racing. Mind tripping over itself. _Why is it so hard? _ Just do it. __ I open my mouth to confess, But no words come out. Try again. They are waiting. Turn around and run away. So much for confessing.

(this doesn’t really go with the prompt!)

I chose you. I chose you, And that should mean something. It was like picking a flower. But not because you’re beautiful, Or smell nice. It was because you made me feel something, As a flower does. Though, in the end, The flower dies. Similar to the love I had For the idea of you and I. I chose you. I chose you, And that should mean something. Though, in the end, It really meant nothing.

I’ve held this secret deep within A quiet truth a gentle sin That when you smile the world feels right And every star ignites the night.

I’ve whispered your name in silent prayer Wishing you’d know how much I care But fear has kept me far away Afraid of what you’d have to say.

Yet here I stand with heart laid bare No more to hide no more despair For love though timid knows no end— And in you I’ve found my truest friend.

So hear me now if only once This love I’ve kept my soul’s deep song: With you I’ve learned the art of grace And in your eyes I’ve found my place.

I must confess, okay I lied. I lied, okay. about my personality natural introvert I was shamed into being “the quiet one.” throwing a 12-year-old into a new world would do that I was shamed into quiet and shyness when Certain words I said
were made incomprehensible Though I spoke the same language When my English was not American and you could hear the African in me Shamed into silence because my voice was different So I went from being known as a talkative a personality I had been given in Nigeria to be known as the quiet one Because I could not bear to share my words, to share my voice With those who would look at me different those who would make fun of my voice those who would see the African in me and then I could no longer fit in Now, as a grown-up African I call myself an introvert Like I've always been that way, an excuse to be quiet and not questioned Truth is, I was made that way From constant anxiety that my accent would make me stand out when all I wanted was to blend in Growing up some more, I now think of myself As an extroverted introvert because I love talking, being around others where my accent no longer matters where I can make fun of my pronunciation American or African where my voice has been made comfortable Though I love the quiet, too The quiet of listening The comfort of silence The silence of solitude

I have a confession to make I am a lone flying crow My home is in the gallow I make peace with my friend, sorrow With bones of hollow I fly solo No murder to follow So here I go I fly high as I can With the world below I am one with the fallow I am one with death So don’t follow I only take your time, that’s only borrowed. My heart you asked of, is with a merrow
I’m not worth the trouble I am peace with solace of isolation I only bring uncertainty sorrow I’d rather be with a scarecrow To scare myself off into the depths of my shadow Sorry to mess with your alter-ego To fall for me I am a meaningless crow So now, you know I am a lone flying crow.

I crave the peace I was once given. Feeling light as a feather in the wind. The freedom to think without worry, Breathe without catching my breath.

I crave the peace I was once given. So deeply so that I must confess, I’d do anything for it. I have done anything for it.

I’ve done so much that the smoke still fills my lungs, The pills still burn my nostrils, And my breathe still gives hints of alcohol.

The pain of all of done Sits with me everyday. I put on the mask of contentment, Trying to hide the suffering, the mistakes.

you and me settled in a playhouse you play the prince, and I the clown

you dangle your dolls, as my neck croaks unable to breathe with my dangling limbs yearning to stay in the air, stars dazzling my eyesight .

the jingling bells trembling on my fools cap entertain and deceive all though you easily turn to porcelain

i fall from grace, everytime you’re near. shattering my bells for your breath to be my anchoring lacquer

i hate you control you seize the humanity you force into my being

i am trapped in the dollhouse you call love.

There’s something I want to get of my chest Something I must confess When I do I can finally rest Sometimes I think of that day at recess And wish you hadn’t come Sure loneliness is taxing But really only for some Not for me who’s sitting on that tire swing When you can’t remember having a friend How can you miss them When the days stop to blend That’s where the problems stem For now I fear them blending again And the nothingness that will begin

To all the wrongs i done There is a lot To be sorry for Can’t except forgiveness But each person has a confession It’s a secret that their hiding That they don’t want to tell But they do eventually It’s time that I tell mine I’m sorry for everything That I ever done to you All the lies All the times that I made you cry But again I’m sorry You don’t have to love me No longer But that is my confession

My thoughts are intrusive bombs I can’t fathom into words. I’d like to think of myself as a good man, but then bam!! I get hit with another blasphemous, horrendous, god-awful thought. “I can’t help it, I’m a good person!!” I scream to my demons. They whisper back “You are a disgrace. You should never have been born!” Tension rises within me. It starts in my stomach and works it’s way up to my chest. It feels like the demons in my head have trapped my soul inside my body. The light inside is desperately trying to get out. But it’s stuck inside the anxiety. I must confess. I must let my soul escape through my words. I must be seen as the good person I long to be.