My childhood seemed so pure so good
Now things are crooked and misunderstood
I laugh, I cry, I talk, I'm silent
The things that I think are not pure but violent
Bloodlust and sin seem to roll through my head
If things persist, I'm better off dead
No one can see my smile is fake
And that the things that they love are the things that I take
Greed and arogance are things that bring me down
With this I find, I can only frown
Who knew that I would grow to posses such hate
I only wish they would return my childhood state
-Alycia Nicholls