The Contradiction Poetry Slam: I Am... Scholarship Slam - CLOSEDThis poem is about: Our world Comments Login or register to post a comment. Lt. Saebelov 4 years ago Life, death, is there no in between? And, if it is so declared by the masses That the dead may be living, Than why is the thought of Those living dead meaningless. I have seen this debated, whether Those living are actually dying. Science says “yes”, religion “yes” It is hard to find a stubborn “no.” I speak not of a literal dying, how easily remedied By those is white coats, and with profession practiced. Indeed, the living die on a clock, Or so the news says One-point-eight, every second How can a human, spirit and all, Be an eighth? Such a fall From a whole, even as the whole Is passed over by those who fill holes. So established, the living are dying, spiritually, emotionally, But not socially, no not ever A modern spirit would rather suffer in Hades Than risk a missed opportunity to share with the world What things of little importance they do. Ah! Herein we find the problem Of our generation today, how Each and every one of us Has a story that’s gory, and We cannot tell it out loud, Lest our conscience and spirit meet for the first time. How is it we value social health, which rises against an impossible model Will not help but destroy a soul, As a sole soul sells solely to the soul-reaper. So, the dead walk the earth living again, Questioning, like me, the ways of the dead living, those Who choose to live dead. A solution? Exists, but shan’t be obtained For, to in this world succeed Your soul must first be stained.