It’s an epidemic. Your symptoms are clear.
Eyes red, near dead. There is a chill in the atmosphere.
More than contagious, the sight is outrageous.
Keep talking so I know you’re still here.
Spreading more quickly, you appear to be more sickly.
Something is missing here.
No explanation, no signs of information.
Just imagination left to add to the fear.
Emotions taking control, while consuming us whole.
Last words drowning in tears.
Accomplishments fading, memories waiting.
I’m beginning to see that the end is near.
This is an epidemic. And your symptoms are clear.
Eyes blank, chosen fate. You are part of the atmosphere.
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