Hurt

From Karhlton To emabelsmith@yahoo.com Like a blot of ink on paper Insignificant Who says you can judge me? And tell me who to be and become Who gave you the right Who gave you the right to mark me down with your pens of injustice And swindle me with your lying lips Who authorized you to Who authorized you to walk over me Like a busy street To use me like paper crumbled up Who told you you could Who told you you could stare me down with your eyes And take the innocence from my soul Why did you make that fatal incision Who made you do it Am sure I never asked for any favor Am sure this was not my idea Tell me who made you some strikingly evil