Living Dead

Amid the carcasses of men lying by
Hawkers with their wares ply.
The living jump over skin after skin
Unknowing one may be their own kin.

The wind blows strong from the sea.
The stench of death rises over the city.
A dust cloud descends from the mountains
Wrapping everything, everyone in its embrace.

But no one is afraid, everyone’s running on empty.
A child with a missing mother, a father without yearlings.
Trucks rumble down the byways, coming to tuck the bodies
In unmarked graves of lime and mud.

The sun sets in a golden haze
As lamps in silent homes come weakly ablaze.
Soon, the streets are flooded in complete darkness.
Night has set in.

— I wrote this short piece (or much of it — I’m writing from memory) in 2nd year high school. It won the campus poetry contest that year.

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