Laying dead in the middle of the road.
Motionless. Cannot talk. Cannot move.
Black coat covering the upper body.
Black boots trying to keep the feet warm,
Even though the soles are so damaged.

Even the lush greenery is appearing so dark.
The moon has cast a dark glow on it.
All seem to be mourning the death,
Of the living dead girl laying on the floor.

Arms flung widely on the tiled road.
Symbol of all her miseries.
Life has not been fair on that little poor girl,
Who is trying so hard to make it through everyday.

The potholes on the road have been fixed.
But the ones in her life keeps emerging.
Putting its weight on her fragile shoulders.
She could not last long so she broke.

The little girl is dead.
What do you have to say?
Her life has been burdened by miseries that she could not cope with.

Now she is dead.
A living dead.

Now she is dead. Dead.
A walking dead.


© Derin.