Worship

There's an epitaph in my garden
I keep it hidden among the green
This dark angel acts as warden
My tour guide to light unseen

The lie I tell is now broken
But your spell is alive, intact
My haunted words are tokens
As the stained glass refracts

There's a hatch towards the tunnels
I hold my breath and go alone
To dredge the ends of a bottle
To fall asleep in my lair and atone.