Walk of the Dead

By unknown means we’ve come to rise,

Ripped from the ground before your eyes.

Our world consists of rot and dirt,

Forgetting what it means to hurt.

Under the light of a godless sky,

We shuffle on, barely passing you by.

Those that see expect a screech, or a “BOO!”

But you seem to forget that we’re done with you.

While your flesh may serve as a muse for our walk,

We’ve lost the skill and the patience for talk.

So stay in your homes; be safe in your bed.

Ignore the march of yesterday’s dead.

The bravest of you pull a knife or a gun.

In no real danger, we refuse to run.

Your true fear is soon revealed in your face,

And we pick up our feet for your final chase.

The dead continue to rise from the ground.

While more of your friends seem to not be around.

And before you start wondering what you must do,

Just remember that we were once your friends too.

‎A Message to My Friends

If you're ever alone, if you're ever freaked out,
Just sit your ass down and we'll work this shit out.

If you're needing a friend, you know I'm not far.
So don't pretend you're ok and just say where you are.

I can come out and find you, or drop you a line.
We can start talking and I swear you'll feel fine.

I know you feel low, I know it seems tough,
But I also know you, and you're made of stronger stuff.

It may not be easy, you can never be sure.
But there's a spark in you that you just can't deter.

So things'll get better, just wait and see.
And maybe next time you can do the same for me?