The Living Dead

Sometimes life is nothing but a scar,
We smile, we laugh but its all a farce
The painted red of a jokers lips,
The tainted yellow sunshine drips
Eyes so dry, it hurts to see
A mind that refuses to be free
Memories and thoughts all that remain
Letters spoken, words unheard
We trudge along hopeless, lost
The living dead, a heart covered in frost
Pain and hurt we know not too
A numb feeling, loss, nothing new
Days and nights now as one
A wisp remained, a human undone.