Confession is my key.

It opens the doors of my mind

And lets thoughts run free

Giving me ample room to find

Whatever excuses I can

To justify why I ran.

Confession is my door.

It closes all room left for doubt

Gives security, what I’m looking for,

Saves me from the utter drought

Of sympathy that surrounds me

Sympathy I don’t deserve, really.

Confession is my room.

Comfort I feel here is unmatched

Ignoring my fate society spins on that loom

Giving me a roof of ignorance thatched

Over my head,

They want me dead.

Confession is my life,

A constant attempt at justifying my strife

The parts they don’t see, the parts rife

With fear, shame, the pain of time’s knife

As it draws fresh new lies, playing doom’s fife

In my ear, though I hear it through my skin

Another layer to hide what’s within.