Living life in the red,
it's not their health,
it's what's in their heart and head.
Walking around hating,
won't do no negotiating,
and you can forget lovingly relating.
Stroll down the street,
many of the walking dead you'll meet.

And if you want to arrive,
at least stay alive,
you better watchout while you drive.
Welding tons of metal,
pressing too hard on the gas pedal.
Speeding too fast in their cars,
after they leave the clubs and bars.
Headed no where in sight,
eventually you might
pull up beside them at another light.

Try to say hello,
they make you feel like jello.
Then give you a blank stare,
like they're not breathing the same air.
You know there are problems in their head,
because you also are
apart of the walking dead.

But you refuse to wear it,
more or less try to repair it.
You refuse to let it show,
no use letting the stupidity grow.
Later on you sit back and smile,
because being a zombie isn't your style.

OnepoetGem