Walking People

We rise daily with weak wills and diseased bodies
Entering the horror of a new day
With the fears of past failures kissing our lips.

We fill the streets, in all shapes and colours and sizes
Moving in no tandem, everywhere and nowhere
Mechanical and zombie-like.

We scratch our dry throats and muffle hunger.
While fleshing in at the dawn of every new moon
With loose gaits and tied tongues.

With sunken eyes staring blankly at the world
Our tired bodies give way
While our souls crawl to the other side, to face whatever comes after

But still,
Our spirits roam the streets ceaselessly
Lips moving soundlessly
Taking ill-measured steps
While searching for any residue of what was.

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