The Abyss of Wrong Belief

I happened upon a place covered in mist,
through the dark tall woods untended.
Travel across the craggy broken earth.
Follow the old path down from there;
careful, the way is steep and unclear.
When all sides are surrounded high
by the ever reaching stone fingers
dyed blue from their melancholy,
there unanswered hands outstretched
beckoning for Annie to be comforted.
Show your face to the mountains,
simply walk in the door that opened
The place is cold, moist with disease.
Lies were told with no one to please.
Annie's death was never pardoned.
Here or there you might find a tree
where souls are tending to the garden
despite the fact no sun could reach
Darkness is winning against the light,
casting the never ending feel of night,
yet there are no pale moon beams
and no sky to place your dreams.
They use Annie's blood as plant feed
waiting for the trees to grow their fruit.
Once harvested they'll plant the Seed of Truth
Hope is scant in an atmosphere of gloom;
no one speaks of the impending doom.
The souls work feverishly
to change the Abyss of Wrong Belief.