Living in a world of zombies
With people passing by
Looking straight ahead no turning of heads
No contact of the eye

With a blank stare on their faces
Some give off the slightest of growls
No matter the day no matter the place
Not a one of them gives off a smile

Shuffling of feet on their way to greet
Another day of doom and gloom
In this state of zombiefied they'll never find
A sunny afternoon

As they move about downcast eyes with a frown
Can't they see they could be free
Instead of this state of hating each day
In this crazed world of zombies

maybe
the burning in your chest
when you see something
that you’re not supposed to see
is the feeling
of a body
trying to fix
a broken heart
by cauterizing the wounds
it’ll still be broken
but at least you won’t
bleed out

Lighthouse shine a light for me
in these dark times it is hard to see
will you shine a light so I might be
(some day)
found

Meaning got lost in the rubble
trust has only brought me trouble
People hiding inside their bubble
(seems like we are all)
bound

Fires would you burn
I got lost after taking the last turn
what is there to find, what is to learn
(we feel like being, being)
drowned

Please, show me a way
it is hard to go, so much harder to stay
I walk, I halt, I run, I stray
(everything's loud but I make no)
sound

Lighthouse, my castle of warmth
how I miss your steady arms
and your happy, glowing charms
(how is seeing you in the distance so)
profound

Like ancient kings and queens
of a wisdom that redeems
though never knowing what it all really means
(in uncertainty, lonely, in melancholy once again)
crowned

I hate anniversaries
I hate that I remember dates
I hate that it's the first of October
And I remember a year ago
The first time
My heart got broken into a million pieces
The day you destroyed me
Without a care in the world
And I haven't been quite whole since

death is ******* the living
as so many times
when death comes a-knocking
death leaves someone behind
to do all the grieving
in an unmade bed
death in life is deceiving
to those who are left

death never quits
as death keeps tugging the cord
taking all it can with it
all that you can afford
death is not for the living
though you'd never know
nor is death forgiving
when it's your time to go

death is good at surprises
in perfecting the boo
too late you realize that
death scared the mess out of you
with no one to turn to
with no way to compare
what you just went through
when death grabs you by the short hairs
and takes you outta here

In circles convoluted still
We poor dumb puppets turn;
The wind, a thief
Of voices, screaming
That which once was ours-
A shrieking cry more animal
Than man.
Time itself is dancing on
The puppet master’s strings.