Dead

Just because there's blood flowing through his veins and air coming from his mouth that doesn't mean he's alive. In fact I don't think he could ever feel more dead. So skinny, eyes so black, skin so pale and cold, heart so small... Does he even have a heart at all?
Too tired to fight, too dry to cry.
Too quiet to speak, too dead to die.
His joy left him, his hope abandoned him. His dreams destroyed, his emotions shattered. His heart crashed and made a scar on the ground.
Though the world is still up, his has ended long ago. He has no memories of it, the little rest of his sanity's at stake.
Awful visions by day, horrible nightmares at night. His mind is full of the most depressing things we can think of and became a graveyard where he buries everything he sees and thinks so deep no one could ever find it.
There'll be no flowers, no prayers and no chants for him. Death can't take what's already dead...