the phantoms lement

a poem by me

The Phantom’s Lament

By the lake of sorrowed dreams,
Where pale moon casts its silver beams,
A phantom walks in endless woe,
Whispering tales of long ago.

Her eyes, like stars, once gleamed so bright,
Now drowned in shadows of the night.
A soul adrift, without reprieve,
Bound forever—unable to leave.

She weeps for love, forever lost,
A love that came at bitter cost.
Beneath the cold and cruel earth,
It sleeps, forgotten of its worth.

Her spectral hand, once warm with grace,
Now reaches out, a cold embrace,
To touch a world she cannot feel,
A world that turns, but will not heal.

In dreams, she haunts the living mind,
A fleeting glimpse, a voice confined,
To echo through the midnight air,
A sorrow born from pure despair.

No rest awaits, no morning light,
To break the curse of endless night.
And so she walks, beneath the moon,
Her wail a melancholic tune.

Oh, listen well, and heed her cry,
For when she sings, a heart will die.
Beware the phantom’s soft lament,
For it is grief that never went