My Walking Death

A morbid story of darkness.

I walk through these hallways of pain. Not seeing, hearing, breathing, or talking. Just walking, lost.

Why did I get this life? Why is it mine? I'll never know. Meaningless, empty. Who will fill this void? My

one true love? No. He sees only an ugly silhouette of sorrow. Dead to the world. Unable to smile,

without joy. Why don't I die? I am my own walking death. Weary and tired I lay my head on my pillow of

torture. Lay myself in my own coffin of decay and rot. Morbid is my being. Take me away from my pain.

Help me escape this cruel life of punishment. Help me escape my walking death.

Author's Note

I wrote this at a very young age. I don't really know what I was trying to convey at the time, but maybe
someone can help me figure it out.