To define me

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 me

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

that exist

I bear a world of who I am

to the people

But

There’s a universe hidden within me

 

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