'Tis like the quiet early morn <br />When a chill is in the air <br />To surround and then engulf <br />With melancholia and despair <br />'Tis like a ship on waters' grey <br />With ocean swells meant to entomb <br />Though a knife doth pierce the heart <br />Blood egresses from the moon <br />'Tis like an iron sarcophagus <br />Sailing waters to nowhere <br />Imprisoning suffocation doth <br />Impede the soul to bare <br />'Tis like a graveyard of the sea <br />Whose only skeletal remains <br />Equipped with living flesh <br />Devoid of love and all its pain <br />'Tis the rattle of last breath <br />Relinquished slowly on death bed <br />'Tis the man without a soul <br />Condemned to live though he be dead<br /><br />Tamara Beryl Latham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-living-dead-2/
