WALKING DEAD

In shadows' realm, where secrets lie, A tale unfolds, beneath the sky. The walking dead, with hollow eyes, Whisper tales of their demise. Uncertainty veils their every stride, Lost souls wandering, side by side. Their footsteps echo, soft and low, Through realms where darkness loves to grow. No breath escapes their lifeless frame, Yet whispers linger, speak their name. Are they alive or merely ghosts? A riddle, haunting, that no one boasts. Their presence shrouded, mystified, In twilight's cloak, they coincide. A dance of uncertainty they tread, In realms where life and death have bled. Their purpose hidden, never clear, A puzzle, wrapped in eerie fear. Are they cursed or blessed to roam, In this enigma they call home? The walking dead, a mystery's guise, Uncertainty within their eyes. In shadows' realm, they silently tread, A riddle unsolved, forever spread.