I cry alone in the dark night.
The sun refuses to share light.
Lit by a fire from within.
Moonlight hits me like a sharp pin.
I grow paler by the day.
In this world I cannot stay.
Without light I will die.
My white petals will fly.
I’m left to be a thin stick
As I grow tired and sick.
Nothing more sad.
Nothing more shameful.
Than a book not read.
A book lost to time.
Wilting.
Dry.
Strength taken
by the hot sun.
Need moisture.
Need shade.
Wait for the night.
Wait for the moon
to soothe your pain.
Dew in the morning to
to quench your thirst.
Be ready for a new day.
Not so easy to kill The Dead.
A knife through the eye.
Won’t kill them.
A drink of poison.
Won’t kill them.
Let’s add some sunlight.
A sure hot spot for them.
A beheading for dinner.
Will clear the riffraff away.
A witch’s spell could do the trick.
Be careful of your weapon of choice.
The Dead don’t die easily.
THE DEAD GAME
As I fade away,
I think of days long gone.
As I crumble to sand,
I remember the past.
As I shrivel to nothing,
I regret what I’ve done.
But most of all,
I regret what I haven’t.
I don’t want to be dead.
I want to fly like the bird.
Be free to live in the light.
Roam the earth by day.
I’m tied to this hell.
An oasis for the living.
But death for the undead.
THE DEAD GAME
AN OASIS
Calming blue waters.
Soft white sand.
Reclining on the hammock.
Enjoying the sunshine.
The bright blue sky.
The quiet.
Until—
Until darkness descends upon us all.
The trade winds become violent and dangerous.
Our belongings are blown away.
Sand is flung into our faces.
We must leave and run inland.
Rooftops fly above our heads.
We make a mad dash to town.
The sun hides her face.
Lightning and thunder join the winds
And bombard the shoreline.
Where to hide?
The Town Hall.
Its front door is open,
Waiting for us.
The inside is dark and quiet.
What awaits us now?
Creatures are attacking the building.
Windows are shattering.
Bats fly into the building.
Big furry bats with human faces.
The gates of hell have opened and have
Released the most gruesome creatures.
One creature is lifting Shana by the hair.
We are all doomed.
THE DEAD GAME
Kindle
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Nook
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Sunset in Everglades National Park, Florida
The test of time.
We all succumb to it.
It takes its victims.
No one is safe.
Wither.
Dry up.
Turn to dust.
And life goes on.
Until the next victims
bite the dust.
And so it goes.
On and on.
In waves.
In cycles.
In perpetuity.
No reason to fight it.
Accept it.
I will fight.
I will fight the hunters.
I will fight to the death.
I will ride proud and free.
Man will not tame me.
I will not be ridden.
I will remain free as the wind.
I was born free and I will die free.
Life is short.
We are born.
Then we die.
What we do in between
is what’s important.
We determine which way
life swings for us.
Are we good?
Are we bad?
A path we alone can determine.
We keep swinging our chains
until our time is over.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
