Dead Man Walking

by Keith Loh, staff reporter

I’m not what I used to be.
My muscles are sore,
I am barely able to see.
Living has become a chore.

My bones ache and quake.
What do I live for?
The worst is when I have to wake.
I feel rotten to the core.

Am I even the same person?
Can I still be called a man?
Everyday my life worsens,
I no longer can.

I am a dead man walking.
My body, it deteriorates.
Seeing what I used to be, it’s mocking.
There is nothing to do but to wait.

To wait for death,
Is all that I can do.
To “live” until my very last breath,
And begin anew.

The flame within will reignite,
To rid and expel of this blight.
I will finally (be able to) set things right
The story of my life I will rewrite.
Good night…