It became my fear
It became a memory
It became a torment
Of guilt and of slavery
Strip down in a nightmare
That tempered with my skirt
I was living in a voyage
That of black and white
My heart bled till no droplet could fall
The sons of men became a sting
I could not forgive
Yet I had to
All I can remember is me crying to my innocence
Me crying to a silent critism
Fears of traditional sympathy
Fears of not performing a traditional right
Even if I could cry no more
Even if my soul shall remain shattered
But my heart would still test the goodness
The sons of men still has within.
It became my fear
It became a memory
It became a torment
Of guilt and of slavery
Strip down in a nightmare
That tempered with my skirt
I was living in a voyage
That of black and white
My heart bled till no droplet could fall
The sons of men became a sting
I could not forgive
Yet I had to
All I can remember is me crying to my innocence
Me crying to a silent critism
Fears of traditional sympathy
Fears of not performing a traditional right
Even if I could cry no more
Even if my soul shall remain shattered
But my heart would still test the goodness
The sons of men still has within.
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