Zombies
On a moonless summer night
I am filled with fright.
There are people limping down the street
Not the kind, I would like to meet.
A cold chill settles in the air
The wind starts to blow through my hair.
I hear loud groans
And stomach churning moans.
The zombies are getting closer I fear
I need somewhere to hide, somewhere near.
I hold a knife within my palm
I stay to stay silent and calm.
I hear loud scuffles of feet
Around the corner, it was me they did meet.
They had bugs crawling all over their face
I've got to get out of this place.
They're empty eye sockets glowed green
It wasn't like anything, I'd ever seen.
I know they're going to kill me tonight
They were the most horrible sight.
I remembered the knife in my hand
Thought about killing myself, leave this dark land.
They surrounded me, I began to wail
This is the end of my dark tale.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Apr.27/2004
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Send Feedback/Comments
|
|
