You Can't Kill the Dead

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
How a voice cannot die, but rather become louder after a person passes, if has spoke what he believes.

Submitted: December 02, 2011

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Submitted: December 02, 2011

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I remember the day. The day I became sane. The day he came. I remember the day it began like all the others, it began the same, the same as all the others. But this is the day that sane became insane.

He was right there, his hair straight and brown, his eyes symmetrical above his nose. Medium height, skinny, but oddly average. So i would proclaim he was the one, the one who today would lose the game. 

 

So I followed him, I followed him all day. I could hear his voice, such a strange voice. It greeted the fellow passenger beside him, it greeted with passion, it greeted with joy. It was so weird how a man so average could have a voice with such meaning. his voice travelled through my soul at every letter created a word and every word created a sentence. though it wouldn't last, because today Was a last. a last of many, because today was the last his voice would leave, but not the last it would be seen.

 

his day was now over, his last had become; his voice then had muttered, but his eyes are what shouted. The muttering of why. why, because I had too, he brought it on himself. If he was so average then why did he stick out. But today became erie, it became not the same. He kept muttering even after he couldn't. The body died, but the voice was still alive. But it couldn't be. I drove him to the ocean, and his voice still muttered, I dumped him in the water, and his voice still muttered. why did it still mutter? Could it be that I've changed have i gone insane, or is that what i feels like to be sane. now I can see the horrible sights of a mind gone sane.

 

His voice continues to feed through my mind, but my mind has gone inane. All I hear is your voice muttering. Muttering the sounds of your soul as it echoes through distances of my mind. Is this what you all think, is that what is like to be sane. Why was his voice so enriching.

 

Why now I see that a voice can only be heard if the thoughts that created it are his or her own. Living off of someone else's thoughts isn't living at all. If everything you say belongs to another, then you are truly already dead you just have yet to discover. create your thoughts, build your mind, live your life. You'll soon see that joy is not all lost. These those are not my thought. They are thought of the muttering , the thoughts of shouting. The mutters are not mine, but neither though now are my thoughts.

 

My thoughts are not the same have i gone sane or am I more insane. All i can think about is a physically murdered body, and a voice that was already dead. but can a voice be dead it certainly can't live, so how can it die. It can however stay in the air, it can stay forever. Now don't you see a voice can be, but does not live, and you can't kill the dead. 


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