Have you ever met a cadaver that could talk?

Fluent and deft conversations but empty of thoughts

Variable functions, can adapt to any situation

Void of any emotions

Lived lives of multiple identities

But if you were to inquire about one

They have no memories

Around long enough to grasp your dreams by the threads

And weave a spectacular useless bedspread

Walking cadavers don’t walk in others shoes

Lay you down in your own grave bed

Wrapped with your futile cover by their words spoken

Once you are drained of the hope that made you spark

You too will rise up and walk around in the dark

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