THE BLEEDING PEN ANTHOLOGY 36
It fell on her like an unexpected rain
All she got she lost in pain
She’s a living dead
Bank account already in red
In this sea shore I stand as a living dead
The ticks of time in my brain sound dead
Love from my red eyes, vengeance
If spelt, for justice needs its vengeance.
Over the mere sounds of oceans,
Where is our beanery oceans,
To death or fed by dead one,
Walking majestically, the dead gone.
Friends see me so passive
Romantic poetry accuses me of not being active
Brothers and brethren
It ain’t my fault, I’m a living dead.
Merely looking at him from the outside,
You’d say he has on his side.
Yes! he dresses like a king,
But his services are on the wings;
Oh a living dead is the one whose mouth knows no bound
Living dead buried but not yet place 6ft below the ground
To be dead is better than a living dead
My words I spoke I hope u heard.
Love strikes like thunderbolt.
It tore my veins and lovely only coat.
Emptied of self, a living dead,
Walking in the midst of living among the dead.
Ages carried away by guns,
Looking for mere-thugs,
Can that be a rescue team?
Or,rubbing with deadly-cream.
She being a Judahs has left me in this turmoil
And I could pray for a grave on the soil
A living dead I am
My source of living has gone mad.
Ready to be blown away by the wind of stillness,
Coldness in heart now intense.
He used to be the head;
But now,he is indeed a living dead.
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