A child's stolen innocence, the martyr doesn't care. She laughs away, as smiles decay, and bring forth truth declared. The child is much fractured, far beyond belief, while the audience sits and ponders who to believe. The martyr, the mother, knows what she's done, but she is still convinced she's done nothing wrong. It's all those around her to blame, she cries and wails. The pain the child had to feel, had caused them to go through, a metamorphosis like no other, to an adult that has been askew. They've lost the way, or so they say, but reality's rue trickles through. With the regret, and the shame, the adult grows their wings. And through the madness and fear, a purity has come through my dear.
