Am I the martyr...

Am I the martyr...or the arsonist?

You felt safe and sound,
behind your fort walls
Sleeping on your altar
and along came the arsonist

With torches, swords and
an armada of ignorant souls
Throwing sticks and stones,
Digging bottomless holes

To keep you where they thought you should belong
and I know that they could not all have been wrong,
but I still stand by you...singing every word with
pride
As I have promised, never to rest, until the day I
die.

I shall protect your vessel of stones
with verbs, adjectives and nouns
until the day my lifeless body,
rotten and cold, has been found

For I owe to you this gesture of love
for what you have endured
However
My darling, I...I fear that even a loving gesture
may never ease the pain caused, by a soul so impure.