Flowers in the fort of faith withered
Reeking of a renegade’s resistance.
And slimy sweat of a traitor of trust.
It rained blood that night
Soaking everyone in a sadness of shame
And as the sky turned crimson the next morning
All that everyone did was collect blood crumbs
Thinking of the days gone by
And trying with all their might
Not to think of the days to come.