Prove Me Wrong Poem by Quênia Lalita

would you like to prove me wrong?
baby, I love it when there's nothing beneath my feet
except for a torturing pain

so come on, as my fingertips bleed
as these dreams come true
as I beg the citylights to blind me

don't be shy, prove me wrong
sedate me with your absolute truth

the innocence is a crucifix
the night is young
the rain is not dying down and it's music to my ears

confusing sceneries are lights,
an ocean of goodness and madness
but let's call it a day

until you decide to prove me wrong
your lack of empathy, all over my face