To show the judge your now-tormented soul,
You keep your gaze as blank as one can be.
The witness said that you were white and whole
And withered only after meeting me.
Described by Mother as a precious flowr
That bloomed in beauty evry passing day,
They say that I took but a single hour
To steal your sacred innocence away.
But I would argue it had fled years past
Before my hands could ever reach your skin,
For where can any innocence yet last
Where one is feeding darkness deep within?
Alas, I know that this case you will win,
Although twas you who begged for us to sin.