THE WALKING DEAD by A. Gates
Mistaken for more than ordinary.
Killed and living among the rustic.
I am not the wordsmith you thought,
Not the bad man with the smoking gun.
But lo and behold what I have become!
A sly fox slipping out of this world and back
More alive each wake than the time before
Though I am a skeleton wearing skin.
And now my weapon has replaced my tongue.
I shout quiet pows and feel no remorse.
When I return from whence I came,
I drift back into the other world.
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