The Death of Innocence

Every night, just like clockwork She would plead with me She would beg me She would cry out to me I would crush her hopeful spirit With my own two hands I would kill her slowly With my own two hands I would watch her slowly die With my own two eyes I would watch the spark die With my own two eyes I would watch the smile disappear With my own two eyes She was a kid, hopeful and curious Which only made me more furious Not at her, but at society Was it really me who killed her? (I'm talking about my old self, so don't take me as a murderer or phsycopath)