Innocence is as pure as true love As clean as a dove As heavenly as fondue A far cry from untrue Innocence is the sound of the wind through the trees But I sometimes wonder Is it always what it seems? Or is it not? My love always said It is what the eye sees and the mind believes It is simply a game of hidden lies and pretty eyes. It is a disguise for the guilty A shield for the weak Something rather oblique A reason to deny Innocence is nothing but a pure flawless lie
Disclaimer: This was written when I was 13 with two of my friends for a class project and I rediscovered it while looking through old files.