I stand over a grave,
One that reads not Beloved nor Forgotten,
Buried beneath lies and indecencies,
Hidden from reality,
Left for dead,
Never to penetrate fantasy.
I kick the dirt shaming false hope,
Soiling the illusion of a picturesque secret,
Closing the curtain on an act of tragedy.
The sky opens delivering acid rain,
Burning my heart;
Holes left to be filled by memories of anguish,
Black wedges of tarred regret.
I stand in the drippings of hate,
Drenched in pain;
Standing over a grave that reads love,
The death of life.