you stumble around,
repeating the same phrases,
over and over and overandoverandover again.
trying to make me better.
to my ears, they just sound empty.
empty phrases, empty promises.
"i promise it'll be alright."
empty brains, hungry for more.
your green skin, pallid,
reaches out for me to ensnare me into what you call a...
a fake one, just to lure me into a trap.
your jaw hangs open,
ready to chomp on my brain and manipulate,
manipulate me into your bidding.
to manipulate me into being "happy."
you all come in hoards, moaning:
"it'll be okay. think happy thoughts and you'll fly.
"you just need to stop scratching, hurting yourself."
none of you understand -- it's easier said than done.
it's possible that i am the zombie.
empty, worthless, dead.
doomed to stick with a random group until i get shot down.
so all i am is an animated corpse.