A Morgue of Saints

Marble eyes stare through the dust of time Hollow prayers lost in decay's long chime Golden halos dulled and torn Flesh long faded, relics worn Stone hands reach but never hold Frozen in faith, lifeless and cold Echoes linger where voices fell Trapped between the grave and hell Beneath dim candles, shadows creep Over bones where martyrs sleep Silent hymns drift through the air Sung by ghosts too frail to bear Fractured idols, chipped and pale Left to wither, left to fail A temple built on grief and bone Where saints still rot, but die alone