And like poorly spent money
My innocence was stripped of me.
While Eve was made from Adams’ rib,
I was made as my mothers kid.
The worlds intensity flew off my simmering lid.
And condensation turned impossible to rid.
Innocence turned into inner sense,
But what are morals if your foundation makes no fucking sense.
Confused and easily irritable,
I lost the part of my heart that was spiritual.
So,
Please if you can, slow down time
And let me really process my life.
In a world thats constantly spinning,
I have no time to breath-
It’s like god is discreetly hinting;
I’ll never catch this joy,
It’s always completely fleeting.
My fingertips are lost of blood,
My heart is constantly numb,
My body naturally throbs,
My eyes see no love.
And don’t you dare ask why because thats just the cost.
And if I can’t afford this life, then God take this pen and write me off as a lost cause.
I’m not fucking innocent.