his riddle

baby im sick
sick to the core , you know ..
when you lay me down on ma backside and explored


baby im sick
so sick that i must make strokes within
to regain what was lost and lash out of this sin


baby im lost
just a mental case gone wrong
and my mind so weak blackened from the exhaust


baby im lost
so lost that I am trapped at age four
as he corrupted my sanity when baby im suppose to be yours


baby im destroyed
the more i enjoy the pain like a child on steroids
i become like a itching feign as i am destined to redeem my innocence washed clean


baby im destroyed
like parts of me are not intact
im one boy with millions of parts, distraught and mistaught


maybe im confused
misused and abused from time to time
its like a repetetive curse thats just been mimed


yes im sick
but you make me this way
as a boy now a man , forget the damage now im ready to play


the dillusions make me lost
a sick and twisted reality , one that is blended
between the show youve given me and my round of applause


destoryed like you
a mere grain of sand in the mixture of land
but up i stand and ready to expand


now you sit there as i belittle you
you have no idea what i have up my sleeve
not even a clue


sad because i play this game with a pokerface
and you -- so weak --
give me no competiton , such a disgrace


so this is what weve come to
somehow we've gotten here
hope .. i laugh at the word now , how untrue