So many dearly
Unbeloveds.
So many deadly
Cherished ones.
You should count yourself blessed
Having known a pain so perfect
That you’ll never be unsick again.
Little barely times
Made of care and false fear.
We hid the back door
So there’s no easy way out.
We glued the locks open
To give you
Counterfeit faith,
That you could stop
The patron saints
From leaving you.
Oh my god I have seen better days
Where blood was not as vibrant
And you were not singing so dull
And my hands were not so diligent
In my need to dig earth from my bones.
