Grotto Woe

The crypt stood alone

moon beams stroked her face.

Chills ran through her bones,

roots tangled in her lace.

 

Shadows cloaked in her hair,

arousment from the grass.

Something stirring in the still air,

hoping the night would last.

 

Clouds sinking with sorrow,

Her eyes lost on the dark lining,

transversed against the horizon

with pine.

 

Agony lingering

among each tomb,

frozen in her leaving.

This is where she feels home.

 

Misery creeps among the silence.

Depression six-feet deep.

Hitting the heart with brutness.

Noone to hear her weep.