Her name is a stain on my t-shirt
even the strongest bleach can't get rid of,
She's rooted deeply on the stitches—
Even chlorine won't be enough.

I know her color won't fade away—
you just don't want to wipe her out your path,
She's the ruins you've been protecting,
a spot of beauty and history's mark.

An here I am, a tourist interested in her story
but is neglected to have knowledge of her love,
Fears are now crawling up my system—
What if I'm the stain needed to get ridden of?