Okay, I admit it.
I confess my weaknesses to be addressed.
I have not been acquitted from making mistakes.
Or faking experiences to hope for an escape.
Like some who try to charade perfection,
With hope they are not labelled,
As someone who has gone in the wrong direction.
I admit it.
Some days I awaken with intent to mind my business,
When out of nowhere I am tempted to satisfy...
And experiment to participate,
In the most decadent of urges.
And then convinced I am,
If I followed through I could prove to myself...
Stoop so low to gratified those pleasures.
And with my fingers crossed
I promise God to never again submit to them.
Okay, I admit it.
Promises I make to myself sometimes I can not keep.
But I do pray everyday,
The 'Angels' observing my every move...
Will send me 'someone' special,
To do decadent things with we both enjoy and approve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem