“Do what you want to do the most,”
He said, not knowing what she was going through.
“What makes you happy? Do it all.”
But she could feel nothing but solitude.
She didn’t want you to feel any guilt,
For the sin she was about to commit.
You didn’t know, she hadn’t filled you in,
“I want to end this suffering.”
YOU ARE READING
Poems of Confession
PoetryWords I opted not to confide Scattered pieces of me, hidden inside He who held them, now nowhere to find Gone, leaving me behind
