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Inside my body the guilty seeds have rooted through all my veins and in to my heart strangling it dead.                                              Inside my heart the anger fights to still beat, no matter the pressure it competes, its cold because its a zombie heart but it still pumps blood that reaches my brain.                                     Inside my mind is misery, its been confused so much it yerns to shut off but somehow it can't, it won't let me sleep, too many memories and thoughts eat it from the inside out but nevertheless my rotten brain still allows me to have a spirit.                                      Inside my soul is death, the once bright white doves have darkened and can barley lift one wing, choking on my bodies misfortune, as I sit so small in this big monstrous world thats poisoning my skin.            My skin is covered in eczema, my face in blemishes it coughs on the pollution and cigarette smoke that its too exposed to, its infected but somehow my eyes still survive on the surface with it.                                                         My eyes are worn down with a astigmatism from all the rough things I have seen but they still slow me to see more. I'm falling apart, I guess you could say that zombies are real, just not the kind you can see with your own zombie eyes.
0
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
ZOMBIE ME
Inside my body the guilty seeds have rooted through all my veins and in to my heart strangling it dead.                                              Inside my heart the anger fights to still beat, no matter the pressure it competes, its cold because its a zombie heart but it still pumps blood that reaches my brain.                                     Inside my mind is misery, its been confused so much it yerns to shut off but somehow it can't, it won't let me sleep, too many memories and thoughts eat it from the inside out but nevertheless my rotten brain still allows me to have a spirit.                                      Inside my soul is death, the once bright white doves have darkened and can barley lift one wing, choking on my bodies misfortune, as I sit so small in this big monstrous world thats poisoning my skin.            My skin is covered in eczema, my face in blemishes it coughs on the pollution and cigarette smoke that its too exposed to, its infected but somehow my eyes still survive on the surface with it.                                                         My eyes are worn down with a astigmatism from all the rough things I have seen but they still slow me to see more. I'm falling apart, I guess you could say that zombies are real, just not the kind you can see with your own zombie eyes.
field-of-moons
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Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
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