Living Death

When the call comes to bring out the dead,
I'll emerge on my own, still living, but drained
Of emotion, dead in soul, not someone worth
Saving. I don't know what happened. I just
Know it has, and the hollowness which haunts
Me now has spread, like a cancer, into my past.
I can no longer remember not being dead.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 4 times
Written on 2020-05-03 at 16:15

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