Innocence dies.

Innocence dies.

Weak is the flesh.

It hangs in strips,

So easily flayed

By words,

That drip

From poisoned lips.

It is torn,

By the gun,

Swung from cowboy hips.

The easy death,

Virtue,

Hung out to dry.

The stain of blood

A stark contrast,

To purity, childhood,

And the dreams

Of innocence.

Strong is the heart

That beats within,

And fuels desire

For love,

And peace.

As pain,

And death,

So easily rains

Upon us.

Cast by hands,

Washed clean in holy water.

Excused by belief.

The soul thief,

Exempt,

From guilt,

And shame?

Say no,

Not in my name.