Mortal Men of the Undying Society

We are but a palette of intricate faces

Sniveling on a belligerent canvas;

Eyes- drooped,

Acquiesced; like corpses,

dragging our cadaverous bones,

tethered to the loop of infinite time.

Eroded toward the edges facing light,

filling the air with a stench

coming from our crumpled uniforms-

unsymmetrical stripes, and disheveled locks,

dancing under the blood moon.

The operation theater’s light is on,

Someone lost another muffled battle;

No one cries, and another life fills up

these dormant shoes,

pushed into the file;

Walk! Walk! Walk! Walk!

Until the end of time.