This hallowed ground we stand on
was built on lies,
and I can’t pretend I don’t see it shaking.

There was more to me,
and more to you.

This was a gift,
a blessing to be treasured;
now all we’re digging for is rust.

I thought there was more to you,
but you’re just a plane jane,
wrapped in gold.

Should’ve know these lumps held lies,
but I pretended these holes weren’t made by bullets,
you unleashed.

My sacred love,
is now resting in its grave
as you carve out one more hole,
for me.