Waiting a misunderstood

Losing contact with the living
waiting, waiting
a misunderstood
with the constantly
need of being right
maybe we should
stay away of this way
but, man…it’s so hard to find something good
when we blind by the light
of the cold screen
many touchs,
but always so cold
no living thing, no one living thing
only something missing
fake heart beating
emulated by old memories
of something filthy
something rot
not like our skin or our feel of guilty
just synthetic
like the contact
with this army of zombies….


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