CAN THE LIVING BE FRIENDS WITH THE DEAD?
The living dead walk among the living mortals;
Their eyes are almost closed,
Their cotton dry mouths are nearly shut,
Their minds are empty and brain focused,
Their limbs are stiff until they see brain food!
They moan as though they once owned cogent thoughts;
Their thoughts trail off uncompleted,
Their memories are faded wispy dreams,
Their dry voices mimic distance caws,
Their tongues are dry as toast crust!
They hunt because of knowledge obscure;
Their study halls resemble bloody dank morgues,
The books they would read embrace dark religion,
They would be dead words talking,
They exist because of words not known by common man!
They are actually a pitiful sight;
With withdrawn soulless personalities,
With icy cold staring eyes,
With unclean skin and hair,
They are walking dead and do not care!
The man of life and zeal is repulsed;
By the sight of the pail skin,
By the absence of the light of life,
By the deadness inside black hole eyes,
By the putrid smell of the absence of a soul!
By the time the end of all this madness finally arrives…
They will have taken many of the living with them to hell.
This method involves a swarming embrace of the many...
Men and women -- all consumed by hard, rotted teeth!
Begging the question: Can the living be friends with the dead?
-end-