Already gone.

~Mirc~

"How do you know the deceased?"

They always ask that, don’t they?

Well, here’s the thing—

you can walk around breathing,

yet already be gone.

Hope slips from your hands,

and the will to continue

fades into silence.

The body grows old,

but the soul died at sixteen.

You surrendered—

to emptiness, to everyone.

Never fitting in,

not even with blood.

A shadow at the table,

a stranger in your own skin.

I am alive,

but I am the deceased.

No one notices,

no one wants to.

They choose their version of me,

not the one that’s unraveling.

I am dying slowly,

but my lungs still move.

I still breath,

but I feel the air seeping from my lungs.

I'm a living dead girl,

The girl that has a heartbeat.

But never has felt this empty.

Not completely empty-

But not completely full.

I'm the living dead girl,

and you never known.