Embattled Faith and Fiery Tears

My heart is burned,
well done on one side;
it is broken on the other side,
because I was flipped too hard.

From this St. Lawrence derives his patronage
of cooks, chefs, and comedians.

Martyr of love,
we each have a story
to cook up humor
of which future deacons declare.

Hymns of heathens 
held unholy in flames – preservation through destruction.

Proud kings have bowed before your sword,
I am not one of them, a bastard without saints,
beneath the yoke of your empire,
just a barbecued boy begging to be remembered.

So name a river after me,
if a new river is ever discovered.