Zombie

 

Hunger is all I feel,

Just longing for a hearty meal.

I'd not had one of those in quite some time,

on some brains I'd like to dine.

Not steak and chips, nor a succulent pie.

I don't quite remember why,

but now grey matter is all that I crave

ever since the moment I rose from my grave.

 

My vocabulary has become a little strained,

every time I try to speak, the words are coming out strange.

Earlier I just tried to say hi,

was waving frantically at this passer by,

but to my surprise the sound that came

was a guttural moan,

sounded like I was saying 'brains'

 

I've gotten a little green around the gills.

If I could speak, I'd visit a doctor for my ills.

My legs are not quite what they were,

I stumble and lurch, shuffling everywhere.

Bits keep falling off,

earlier I had to cough,

A little skull bone caught in my throat

as I expelled the chunks of gristle,

something inside me broke.

 

The best part of life

is the company you keep.

I've met a few people for a bite to eat

and now they stumble along with me, 

though the conversation is quite clumsy.

We do see sights

though it's mostly brains,

but they do take away those hunger pains.

 

 

Thanks for reading

Peace, Love and Poetry.

Kyle.