You are considered expired by the medical community.
When your heat stops to beat
I beg to differ and say the diagnosis is quite incomplete.

For I see death in the faces of people every day
Slowly trudging through life having little to say,
They drink sadness when they rise.
And consume despair for brunch.
Melancholy is their choice of wine.
Anxiety sometimes their lunch.

They have no pulse though they breathe in and out.
Without knowing they are dead
Shuffling and walking about

It's genuinely a great pity.
They shall never remember or know.
The Walking dead once human
Their hearts had turned to stone.

Tammy. M. Darby January 14, 2023