You cannot define the content of my goodness
If you have never searched through my soul
My body lives in a corrupted reality
That spoils the most pure of all my thoughts
I cannot see myself being influenced
By the thoughts I cannot bear to listen
About who I am
About what I’m capable of
Am I really a monster in a spotless world?
Or am I really a spot in an already tainted reality?
Do they really know the content of my soul?
To them I say:
In the realm of galaxies
I bear a world of who I am
to the people
There’s a universe hidden within me