A Sonnet for You
As if I stole a part of your young soul,
You keep your gaze as blank as it can be.
The witness said that you were white and whole
And withered only after meeting me.
Described by Mother as a precious flow'r
That grew and bloomed with every passing day,
They say that I took but a single hour
To steal your golden innocence away.
But I would argue it had fled years past
Before my hands could ever reach your skin,
For where can any innocence yet last
Where one is feeding darkness deep within?
Alas, I know that this case you will win,
Although 'twas you who begged for us to sin.
My first attempt at a sonnet.