I was taught to be docile
I was taught to be soft
I was taught to be quiet
I was taught to be clean

I was taught to be pure
I was taught to be pristine
I was taught to be love
I was taught to be sweet

And when the cotton began to creep
In with a red that thickly began to seep
The one above never appeared
But my innocence was sheared

And when I am finally without blemish
I am praised for being skittish
And when the  fated time arrives
My innocence is sacrificed, I can’t survive.

I was raised to be innocent
I was raised to be weak
I was raised to be silent
I was raised to be gory

I was raised to be ******
I was raised to be dumb
I was raised to be hated
I was raised to be hurt

And when the knife is raised
Your name is cried and praised
While I’m blinded my arms are bound
On the altar of my suffering, god is found.