Confession

I write too much, I talk to little

Being too nice is accustom

and leads to  being belittled

 

I sin too much, Pray to little

The day I die hell will open it’s door

My funeral will not be horns and fiddles

 

I talk too much, Listen to little

The world is accustom to this

And no this is no riddle

 

I promise you this,

this is not a confession

 

 

 

 

 

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