...Or Words To That Effect

I will stop beating about the bush

I am coming clean - calling my own bluff.

This will set thecat amongst the pigeons

And pull that wool from your eyes.

So take off your rose-tinted glasses

And see me as the cunning red-herring that I am

I'm the pot who calls the kettle black

- Whose bark is worse than their bite.

I'm the cat who got the cream

In this dog-eat-dog world.

But with a permanent chip on my shoulder

From being unable to have my cake and eat it,

My dreams are taking shape.

And I've learnt to take life on the chin.

~*~

It may come as a bitter pill to swallow,

But a little bird told me

That those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones

Face up; we are all full of it.