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Click hereSee I have a confession, on something I do not understand,
the things that hurt you so much,
the words I speak, I spoke, hell I might have wrote,
this is the admissions of a man.
Compliments, words merely meant to be given as praise,
sometimes misunderstood,
provoking your wrath, your anger, and your wall piercing gaze,
but how could?
The tangled web of flatteries that my tongue does weave,
only cause you to despise me,
yet when I asked are you disappointed or even displeased,
you only lie to me.
I finally come to the conclusion of what they really do mean,
your hair, the dress, those shoes,
men don’t have a clue,
The realization of the depth, the weight of the simple things.