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Berg and I

So I woke up one morning with a shadow sleeping in my bed. His voice was soft and solemn, but the teeth were rotting out his head. He said to me, "Let's make a deal, I'll get you out of this here mess, but follow you I will until you're dead."
And as the days went by my shadow matched my each and every step and whispered words of wickedness that rattled round my weary head. ’Til I gave up and let him do the talking while I rested and forgot the countless wicked things he said.
So is he my shadow, or am I his? Am I who I am or what I did?
And soon I got so light my wicked shadow tripped me constantly And shadows pooled up on my skin each time I fell upon my knees. Spotted, dotted, tattered, with a shadow hanging over me, I hung my head and wished for sweet relief.
Now he's the one things happen to, I look upon it helplessly. He's taken on my mannerisms, acts my life out like a scene. Haunted, hounded, as my shadow taunts me with his tactics, I stare stupid and in utter disbelief.
So is he my shadow, or am I his? Am I who I am or what I did?
And then one day I turned around and found my shadow missing. It was worse than that first moment when I woke up lying next to him. “Have I been sleeping this whole time?" I asked to no one listening.
And a shudder rippled through my chest like lightning.
There is no shadow that’s never been. There is no shadow; there never is.
I am what I am and what I did.



Berg and I
Edited By Z Berg From
Night Of The Living Dead
Publication date 1968
Usage Public Domain Mark 1.0
Copyright Status: PUBLIC DOMAIN