Forest of the Lost

The forest whispered secrets to those who strayed from its path,

Engulfing them in a flood of memories,

From times when it was consumed by the fire of wrath. 

Twisting vines slithered past every helpless drifter,

Roots intertwined, undulating at the river's edge,

Their tendrils sway in the current, movements ever swifter.   

Its soil was made from the dust of human bones, 

Steeped in bloodshed from wars long past, 

A resting place for the wicked, devoid of gravestones. 

Some say its haunted by those banished and labeled unjust,

Others believe its power originated elsewhere,

In a universe far away, its cruelty was forged, and upon Earth, thrust.

Either way, those who visit the Forest of the Lost,

Tread with swift footsteps and a guarded mind,

Or risk their lifeline becoming crossed.