The Belle Who Buries My Memories

The grand mansion of my mind
Standing still, deteriorated in front of
The graveyard of has-beens
The lady belle of kindness still shielding from
The stones against the fragile windows

Tea on Sundays when
I've taken my mind off the pain
That shakes the mansion like an earthquake
And breaks the gifted chandelier in my brain

She, the lady of kindness
Binding me to hold on and not let go
Yet to watch her bloody hands shovel
A spot in the graveyard for another has-been I use to know

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