Broken but alive.
Tired but awake.
Walking on dead feet.
Breathing with empty lungs.
If I had a dollar for every hand reaching out.
Death is something never in doubt.
The end comes with a silent shout.
Hungry but thirsty.
Cold but sunburnt.
Listening on mute.
Watching with blind eyes.
If I had an answer for every cry for aid.
Death is something always paid.
The end comes when memories fade.
Soon the shouts will be heard.
Soon the memories will be remembered.
Walk, breathe, listen, and watch.
Soon the hunger will be filled and the thirst quenched.
Soon the cold warmed and the heat cooled.