Innocence is the price of eternal youth. Some give it up willingly, even maliciously, while some just let it slip away, but some of us are forced to regardless of how we battle against it.
It's the way we live; we give up what is most important for what is least. We surrender the future for the now and scream out to the universe that it is what is right and fair and needed.
We grow, and age, and then grow old, but are still young at heart. Not the happy, summertime of youth but the petulant, whining toddlers who have become spoiled. Whether it is because we do not know how else to be or have chosen to stay stagnant in that existence, who knows?
We bathe in the crimson tears of innocents to wash away our age, our inconvenience, our mistakes, our ties to those we wish to leave behind. We watch them die a little more with each disappointment and argument, every episode of neglect feeding a little more into our inability to cope with adulthood and leeching a little more from their joy, their trust, their ability to hope.
The generations are bleeding one another dry. Those who wouldn't have raised those who can't and now we are raising those we cannot and so we let them die a little at a time over the course of years to feed our perpetual tantrums. We watch them lose their souls drop by drop with every tear they cry and, soon, they will have no souls left to cry and will bleed themselves just to feel alive because the only life they know is the one being leeched out by their parents.