I am Dead
By: Ezekiel Gonzales
Let me pop from the grave
Again, the sword pierced through
But the light in my eyes never dies
I pretend the blood and dirt doesn’t hurt
Dressed in Sunday’s Best
I’m back from the dead
With the flick of your hand my heart is stabbed
Their prayers consist of religious sacrilege
Death kisses my cheek,
her pale complexion a stark contrast to mine
With ruby red eyes—jewels stolen
Long, pale hands caress my face
Her kiss yields my tears from their intended “drip”
She says to me,
“I’m back from the dead.”
