Walking Dead

They are still around,

People still talk with me about them,

And tell me how well they are doing.

It hurts on the inside, but I refuse to show it.

I have been this way my entire life,

I suffer silently and pretend I’m at peace.

But on the inside,

I often wonder,

Why is it that so many who are living,

Treat me as if they are ghosts,

Who can only see what I am doing,

But can never exchange words?

That is when I look back,

And I see the things I have done,

And the pain I’ve caused,

I understand.

We have killed each other,

The pain has gone both ways.

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