newark

very dark - first draft

nothing like sniper poetry


Zombie

I am the walking dead
Simply existing
I fought for my life
Now I live to die another day

Getting out of bed is an effort
Thought gladly I do
Sleep brings me no rest
Only abuse to my body and mind

Each day is a struggle
Every step has pain
No matter the joy
Sorrow is not far behind

Money eases my horror
It can not buy me happiness
But leases it, just the same
A strange, but delightful surprise

I think of those days
On the high plaines
In the empty desert
With the dry 120 degree heat

My friends are almost all gone
Victims of themselves
Or a Country they loved too much
Pride was their demises

I greet each sun rise
With agony and delight
Happy to be awake
Having survived another long night