I stand like a Ghost at my Grave

Up on the hill, melancholy and forlorn, I stand like a Ghost at my Grave, Where you buried me. You buried me deep beneath the soil, Where your roots have touched my skin, No regret was there, nor ever been. At the lightest of light, the darkest of days, I wish I wouldn't have stayed, Because now I stand like a Ghost at my Grave. You destroyed my purity, You buried my guilt, For I still haven't returned, to the moment I lived. Disarrayed, yet uneasy, I observe and remain like a ghost at my grave, As my soul, in awe, gets taken away.