Dead’s Watcher
Why don’t you look at me?
With your glazed eye, so wild and free.
Why do your arms flail so much?
As if to grab something out of touch.
Why do you hunger for the flesh of mine?
Is your torment too strong; too painful; too divine?
Why is your skin so pale and dead?
Is the sting too much to bare or shed?
Why don’t you strive for the light?
Your body is trapped in this endless night.
And why do they hold you from the sea?
Is it because you’re a zombie for eternity?
Write to Live; Live to Read: Poetry
A gathering of poetic people who help each other grow in their poetic ablilites.
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