Saint Of The Forgotten

Beneath her veil, the prayers decay,
Blood blooms where words once found their way.
A martyr not for faith, but pain,
Her silence baptized in disdain.

Eyes that watched the heavens fall,
Now gaze at nothing, through it all.
A holy face, a ghost in frame,
Who dies each time we speak her name.

A sacred face, dissolving between reverence and ruin — the sanctity of suffering.