Confession at our 18

At our 18,

If the confession we didn’t,

Say it out,

Was known by others, it’s worse

Worse than the sky falling down

Down on our heads.

At our 18,

A confession that came to an abrupt end,

Is the answer that,

She is eagerly looking forward to,

is the name of my lips,

is thousands of don’t say in the heart.

At our 18,

A bird eager to fly tree,

Free from its nest,

Will never know, its mother left behind,

Who always wants to protect you,

Protect you like supermann,

But stop by its ordinary.

At our 18,

Growing pains, is the unbearable reality,

Reality that you suddenly find out,

Someday, sometime.

Today or tomorrow.

Be patient you’ll find it.

At our 18,

The first person who you want to talk,

When you’re in trouble,

Is still drooling all over the pillow.