One of the Walking Dead

Dead, but look alive.

So recently, I’ve joined the walking dead.

That sounds worse than it is, it’s not that bad:

I’ve merely memorized the steps to perform a listless zombie walk

And I’ve automatized the polite nod to zone out as other people talk.

 

But as I dully stare ahead, I no longer see the world around

But all the same, the world’s not watching either, doesn’t care

About the ones like me, who are no longer quite… there,

The likes of me, the ones so lost that they cannot be found.

 

The others haven’t even found out yet

That I no live longer among their kind

I am amused, wonder when they will get

The news that I left them all behind?

 

But until the realization dawns on everyone

That I really am already dead and gone,

And just for my own sick enjoyment,

I keep this secret, and I humor them

As I pretend to breathe and look alive

For however long it takes for them to realize

That my life had been hanging by a fragile thread

And that I have become one of the walking dead.

Author's Note

Happiness has never fuelled my imagination, I guess. Live life, while you can.

Reviews

[Daniel DeLorez]

This is, as I've come to expect from you, a very dark write. It makes me think of that commercial with all those kids walking around with their faces buried in their smartphones for some reason. I guess the way I interpreted it was how numb you've become, and how life seems to be passing you by. Nothing excites you anymore, you're just drifting through the motions. I like it.