the filth of a confession.

for years now,i fold my hands-half clenched.

twiddling the trigger finger from this beast

that stood in front of my mirror.

bang. i can not recognize myself. boom.

what have you, you call me a female soldier,

and I'll lick my lips quickly

before i thrust my chin forward,

-daring you to frighten me,

quite impossible so,

i,being so hardened.heh

well..

you don't know self confessions

until you sat through therapy after therapists

owning up to your own,knowing the aftermath

it got to be more than letting go now,

i got myself so good.

i haven't cried for so long

and i'm desperate for a break through.