The broken lay among us,
Softly pleading with their eyes.

We walk around them,
The living dead below.

Walking on hearts that crack like eggshells,
We look past their pain.

If we don’t ask they won’t tell,
Passing their sorrows to us.

We’re all the living dead,
Each soul carrying their own burden.

Every heart slowly cracking,
Beneath the weight of false happiness.

We cannot lift it on our own.