* THE CONFESSION **

Sometimes you hit me: slaps, especially slaps.
You like to slap me now flat, now in really bad moments, with the back of your hand.
The backhand hurts.
But you never exaggerate, at the very least I have only a small bruise left.
Objectively, a slap is a trivial matter and I am becoming objective.
Sure, my pride is shipwrecked in a sea of ​​humiliation, but what pride, come on, let’s be serious,
I don’t have any more.
I know you like to slap me not out…

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