Walking Dead Poem by Daniel Brown
Walking Dead
I won't be like those dead people,
The one I was before.
Shuffling, shambling, rotting in place,
Consumed by the need for more.
Compulsively passive,
Preyed on and weak,
Primed to disease and decay.
Keeping in movement,
Keep moving my feet...
No time to go back through that door
Wednesday, April 10, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: addiction,recovery from
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2/22/2026 6:42:11 PM # 1.0.0
