Walking Death Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Walking Death
Sometimes feeling like walking death, numb, feelingless,
emotionless, yet somehow still alive and doing things
automatically without thinking.
Like an automaton or robot, having nothing to hold onto,
being overrun at times by heavy storms of tears seeming
to come out of nowhere.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/19/2024 9:17:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
