Marcel Thankovich's "dirt" reads like advice the speaker is giving to someone else, and maybe to themselves. The opening line tells the listener to let their heart bleed and insists that this isn't evil. Pain, the speaker suggests, is not a flaw or a sin. Right after that comes a small admission: "i cannot determine myself." The speaker doesn't have everything figured out, which makes the advice feel more like shared struggle than a lecture.
The poem then asks for a kind of demolition. What you built can crumble into dirt, and the judgment here is that something truer was hidden behind it. The second stanza turns gentler, repeating "have some faith" and urging the reader to believe in tales and befriend their fears. The ending, a "second teardrop," suggests crying again, perhaps more freely. The mood is tender and quietly hopeful, with a hint of weariness. Judging by the ellipses and lowercase style, the voice is soft and unsure, but it still reaches toward release and acceptance.