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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
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