Love Is Energy

I was naive to it. To truth. I was naive to the thing I cherished most. Patted down with a shovel I thought it was hidden, away, but like energy it cannot be destroyed, only transfered. And thats what it was, transfered. I felt good, I felt fresh and healthy and now I'm thrown back into the muck I burried it in. A shovel thrown on top of my shoulders as a finger points and tells me to dig. Secretly, when hes not looking I scoop more dirt on top but then he turns and I continue, grain by grain. A ton or three of dirt to remove just to be half way there and already my shoulders ache, my back cracks, my bones are brittle and I starve as I work. I sleep in the dirt, I work in the dirt, I bathe in the dirt. It stains my clothes, my skin, it gets into my ears and my bloodstream carries the dirt all throughout my body. I can feel the dirt crumbs running through my veins and through my heart but still I work in the dirt.