Look at my Innocence soiled.
Iridescent white innocence soiled.
Every day I coat myself with unworthiness,
wishing only that I can somehow wash it away.

Look at my hands, they’re so filthy.
Crippled and stained from misuse.
I’ve wrapped my heart with indifference,
and sewn it’s mouth shut with laughter.
I’ve painted my eyes to show false feelings,
to hide the fact that I cry.

My knees have bled from begging,
but what good has it ever brought me?
What do I have to show for the love I’ve felt,
besides blood stains on my floor?