The Grin

Beneath the dirt where shadows creep,

The dead still grin in restless sleep.

—

Their whispers rise through roots and stone,

A hollow laugh, a breathless moan.

—

The worms inscribe their flesh-bound lore,

While bones lament the years before.

—

Yet through the dark, one voice remains,

A deeper chill, a ghostless bane.

—

A grin unfurls, so wide, so thin—

The graveyard laughs… and pulls me in.