My Dirge Unto You

My dirge is for those of plenty,
Those who come for dollars, leave for pennies,
A heart opened is a delicate thing, my loves,
Defenseless and fluttering, as the flight of doves,
Hold your tears, tired and weak ones,
Your life shall surely be shot to death with emotional guns.
Curse the trustee, love the martyr, directions going everywhere,
Hold your peace at this time, it is not correct to pull out your hair,
Lessons learned, choices made,
Trust is not a simple stockade,
Lights come, lights go, darkness may swallow you whole,
You need not dig yourself deep, you were not created as a mole.
Unholy dirge of woe, closest to the soul,
Time has yet to heal your bleeding hole,
Non waking you are reminded of painful realities,
Reminding you of certain actualities.
Love is sincere, never wandering, never changing.
Love is the Lord, never leaving, never changing.
Give us the wisdom to go on, rebuild on your time, or fall apart forever.
My dirge unto You, heal my bloodless my heart oh Lord.