The living dead… (A poem by Jack)

They beat the backs of the already slain…Dead men… Who couldn’t fight back if they knew how.. Unaborted souls.. Inhabiting fully capable bodies..Capable in the sense that a potential exist… Yet with no Will to realize …what is potential but yet another burden..

But what is an entity with no link to it’s past.. No more than the walking dead..a mind without direction becomes mindless and numb.. A soul without fire… Becomes the life source of parasites… 

Behavior is a learned process..

Human is a learned process..

Devolving is a learned process..

What strength can a man have if he knows only bounds and limitations of his will?

When can a man be a god? If he is only taught to be a law abiding citizen..

Can your imagination set you free… If your willingness to imagine has been killed.. Poisoned… Infiltrated and replaced..

Don’t kill us… For we are already dead.. 

We will rise… And soon.. Until then.. Even a dead man’s life matters…

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