The more dirt you throw on top of a forgotten beauty,
The more difficult it becomes to find.
Because then it gradually changes,
Disguised by the rotting filth that scuffs out it's light,
Like a foot crushing the glowing ashes of a used cigarette.
And it slowly, but surely, decays into the trash itself.
So now what was once reclaimable is lost forever in a pile of sorrow.
What once could have been salvaged has drowned in the ocean of confusion.
And you sit there pretending you have the right to mourn for such a magnificent soul.
When you were the one who ignored it as it fell like a dying star.
And the one who turned your back as it was spit on and devoured.
When all you had to do was pick it up
And hold it to your heart again.