Being dead is easy, but dying, dying on the inside is painful. Dying because you either gave up or because you’ve lost the will to move forward, is pain. It’s a hard thing to ask someone to continue living, to move their body forward toward an encumbering tomorrow, when its easier to live in a free yesterday, especially if the mind will not yield. Zombies run loose on the world of lost dreams and forgotten stars. Amongst crowds, lies the crumbling fate of those who take solitude for granted. Thought breaks the painful chains of loneliness and despair. Death has no power here.