Zombie

Zombie

Glorified

And sought after

Dead and brain seeking

What if we are the zombies

Stuck in routine

Mundane

With no sense of freedom

So numb and bitter

From life experiences

Trapped in the dark

Fighting the battles in our minds that weigh us down

Creating havoc

In even the smallest of forms

Is there a way out

Is there a cure

An ending to self misery

Or grasp of light

In even the slightest sparkle

Glimmering in the slightest corner of the eye

Or is it just an addiction

Where it feels like as if all is fading away

Six feet under

Covered in dirt and mud

Have we become the zombies

Overwhelmed by heaviness

Like a fog

So dense that you can't even see your own hand in front of your face

And all that is left

Is waiting for it to clear

To be washed away

In a calming storm