Innocence,
That's not me.
Guilty,
That's not you.

What we feel,
Is our choice,
Influenced or not,
We choose to feel bruised.

Battered, broken,
By no one else,
But our selves,
Victimized by our need to understand,
To cope with the dope we're stuck on.

"It's your fault, not mine".
"How could they do this to ME".
Not reality.
Just a sleeve, a blanket, a wall.
Of ignorance.
Of indulgence.