To whom can I confess a secret?
“It depends on what you tell them,” they say.
They’re scared I might be sent away.
Resenting depression; heart of regret,
If I shut up, would they forget?
Would it sit in their minds and slowly decay?
Look what you’ve done, is there no other way?
You’ve given them everything to misinterpret.

Now they look away, like I have three eyes on my head.
They whisper and they judge.
At home I lie in dread,
I am confined to this bed.
With your mistake, I will hold a grudge.
They avoid me because of that thing you said.