Her Ghost Still Laughs in My Dreams…

He proffers the apple to the stone-flesh silhouette
It’ll rot like the others, blacken ‘neath her feet
No tree will spring forth their seed; deathly ground
As no tears will moisten those granite eyes

Grief has long encumbered a heavy tread
And the rushing spirits only bandage the grievous wound
Conjured darkness enshrined the failure with hatred
Such wicked education scars the soul

Evil was not meant to dominate
It is merely a test of constitution and conviction
And though the crow flies over her head
Her ghost still laughs in my dreams…