Whispers In The Wind

She walks down the same pathway,
Always on her own,
No one will approach her,
They cannot see she is alone.
She walks here every night,
Waiting to be found,
She is just a gust of wind-
Her body's under ground.
So once a year they gather,
To mourn the dreadful loss,
They stopped searching long ago,
Condemned her to the moss.
They found her crumpled jacked,
Caked in dirt and leaves,
They confirmed it was a murder,
Her body lies among the trees.
She was never buried,
Not properly at least-
She was thrown into the riverbed,
By the knife wielding beast.
Now she wonders aimlessly,
Looking for the end,
For someone to come find her,
To help her tortured mind to mend.