Innocence is a lot like snow.
The sky gives birth to it and it falls gracefully onto the earth.
White, pure, and beautiful.
As time progresses snow becomes dirty, it melts in filthy slush, the innocence decays and it's stepped on and taken for granted.
My innocence is the type of slushy snow which is piled up in frame banks alongside the roads and smudged on the pavements.
My innocence decayed because of the motion to motion on the pavements, the intoxication in the parties and cruelty of the falsely proclaimed upright adolescence.
My innocence is expired and I spend my past obsessing over the days of purity.
I dream of untangling myself from the rusty chains of my rusted morals and to live a pure life but that only lives in my dreamscape.
It's a nice dream. It's a nice dream.