Dead

They cry and say
"Leave me alone,"
As the dark pathway
Chills them to the bone,

They cry and shout
"I'm going home,"
As I write their doubt
Into this poem,

They cry and scream
"I don't want to go,"
As they lose their dream
That they never show,

So keep in mind:
The hunger cannot be fed,
And soon you'll find
That they'd rather be dead.