Dementia

You are the undead
Your essence ceases to be
A true zombie in every sense of the word
The dried husk of your former exuberance
No direction
No ambition to take part in life
The ramblings in your mind have taken over
The demons in your heart control the rest
On good days you make no sense
On bad days you  rage against life and God for an unknown debt
Anger, violence, paranoia are your constant companions
They can reach you
We cannot
No love or sympathy to give to anyone  
Not even yourself
All are suspect especially those you birthed
We are the new adversaries you rage against
Unknown to you but for instances of lucidity
Alarmingly, these dwindle everyday
Still we toil through our tears and broken hearts
To bring you peace and happiness
Even for just a brief moment
This condemnation makes no sense
It rattles my faith to its very core
You are the light on our hill
The guiding beacon to our promise land
This cannot be God’s work
This smells like mankind’s creation  
The biproduct of our heresy
We are nevertheless powerless to change it and
We have no place to direct our rage  
You are the undead
A zombie
Hell has truly come to Earth


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