Danse MacabreA Poem by Alex PaulDementia and fears - the spectres at the feastAs you drift through this world you may not even notice your transition to the next the living dead waltz dull eyed through ballrooms created by the living for their own convenience dementia stalks these living dead and the living who dread that one day it will be them phantoms frail ghosts of once young women and men who stare blankly at strangers they no longer know who fear them now and what they have become their sons and daughters that visit in the homes created for the living dead by the living who dread in each forgetful moment that they will be invited to join this Danse Macabre
Alex Paul 2013
© 2013 Alex Paul |
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