Her sorrowful moan,
I hear it between the dead
pine needles, branches and leaves
stacked together from years of decay
and the cold frozen ground
where her candle-lit grave
lies undisturbed in this old
and ancient forest floor.
I hear the sound of scratching fingernails;
The endless struggle of someone
who is long dead but still don't want to die.
I stayed up with the moonless night
telling her sweet fairytales
of the modern world.
I don't think she understands
just how unfurled
this dreamer may be.
What feels like centuries of being trapped
and imprisoned to this dark land,
haunts and torments the
tired monster who can no longer breathe.
I see the sadness in her eyes,
unable to come up to taste
the battery acid of the enchanted snow
as it falls down in my mind.
No words can change the painful truth
that I will have to leave her here
restless and utterly sad before long.
there's no room for the dead
in a world of the living
where she no longer belongs.
The moans and screams
become soft beneath the thunder
of my dream-like wings.
The cold wind from the tops
of the catatonic pine trees,
Swirled down short of six feet under
where she will dream
of darkness for eternity.
