Zombified

I used to be called a zombie,

A result of my dead swagger,

But now I’ve truly turned one,

It all comes crashing to me,

When I read facebook status-es,

That speak of loss and loneliness,

When my friends speak of love,

Their commitments and failures,

When I  hear about horror movies,

How they scream and see ghosts,

I have killed these emotions,

A cold-blooded murderer,

Now I walk the land zombified,

Devoid of sadness,

Deprived of love,

Departed from fear,

Am I too scared to face fear,

A cowardice that walls fear out,

Do I not love in fear of losing,

Do i fear desertion so much,

So much, that I killed love,

I’ve distilled the feelings,

Feeling that make us human,

Feelings that’ve kept you human,

The distilled remains are scarce,

So scarce that I feel happy,

Happy that I can feel sadness,

Not knowing how long this would last,

How long happiness would keep me company,

I ponder hard facts while looking beyond yonder.

Finally it seems only fear has distilled over,

The steam boiling distillation process,

Has left a fog of fear hanging,

That has an eerie glow, an ancient aroma,

That keeps my mind under lock,

The lock of purity that keeps me in,

In this room called sanity,

When this lock breaks,

The treated walls that holds me in,

The liquid me that has lost solid form,

After unspoken distillation and treatment,

Would break out, spill and spread,

At a tremendous pace beneath the fog,

That floats gaseous, free, red and scary,

I’ll be soaked by the stale ground,

Within seconds wiped off the face of Earth,

Without a trace of dirt.