I am not alive.
I cannot be hurt.
Not alike, although we've all derived from the same dirt.
You fuel your own fire.
The blaze, it keeps you hot.
I will walk through your inferno, but affected... I am not.
Though you start as a flame.
To keep your souls from feeling lost,
You spread like wild fire. You create a holocaust.
Justify your destruction.
Label it humanity.
Hate the heartless, soulless, freaks. Spawned from your insanity.
I am from your ashes.
You are from the sand.
Your evil has created me, but you don't understand.
A product of your hatred.
I've risen from the dust.
I line your souls with fear, but it is you I cannot trust.
My soul had a fire.
My heart had too much pain to hold.
My candle died out in your raging inferno. I was left walking... cold.
Afraid I walk among you?
My face can't be distinguished.
Absorb your evil. 'Till I know your fire has extinguished.
With each soul that I drain.
Through its victims eyes I see.
And I won't stop until you all are hollow... Just like me.
My god... I just love this so much... I can't even explain how much... this is wonderful! A great work! And all these feelings- hatred, sadness... everything... it just took over me... great!!! This is my fav of yours from now on...
I really want to see something more like this... wonderful... I think I could read it again and again... just perfect!
Interesting topic. The walking dead. Mind you, I've known people who wouldn't even rate that high on the intelligence scale, but that's another topic...
Now where did I but my gun collection... :p1:
sweet poem and it so full of hate
and despisement , and ont many people
understand what it means to have an
extiguished soul because they only play
when it come to love and having it killed
or smotherd you feel empty and you need
something to feel that void so you fill it
with the only thing available which is hate
and anyone that says there nothing to grasp
on to when your passion is stamped out like a flame
has never really experinced true love becuase there is
always something to grasp be hate , malice , or that
blood lust that drives people to vengence , there will
always be things to grasp if there was true love.
if you cant find anything when its over the love was
never real so get over it and move on , this poem shows
alot of pain and resentment which is what you get from
getting done wrong.
Perfection is non-existant. ;)
Originally Posted by Lasura
Thanks, I felt like I died when I wrote it.
Funny you mention intelligence. See, maybe humans see zombiez as brainless monsters.
Originally Posted by Daniel219
But maybe its not the brain thats missing at all. I love zombies.
Proving to me, once again. That you can grasp the meaning behind the meaning.
Originally Posted by HolderOfTheDarkChalice
What you say is so true, that I want to cry.
But, what kind of zombie sheds a tear?
Now was that a big doze of good sarcasm? Don't blame me for liking it so much... I call everything that I can't find anything wrong in- perfect... Perfection exists as long as you don't always ask for more...
Originally Posted by Peach_follows
I' m sad to hear you saying "I felt like I died when I wrote it", but I think I know how that feels and the next day I usually try to think: "At least there' s something good from me being sad, angry etc."
Perfection exsists as long as you don't always ask for more....
Originally Posted by Lasura
Thats an interesting way to look at things.
And feeling dead is what this poem called for. I guess it came on strong, because I was taking many of my personal emotions... and wrapping them up inside a fictional character. Since the character is "the walking dead", So was I. The real challenge wasn't the poem, but feeling alive after writing it.