The Rhyming Dead: A Fate Worse Than Death

The world has clearly ended
And the zombies claimed the land
But there’s one thing that I plead of you,
That I really could not stand…

There’s no longer dignity in death
Now that Hell has shut its door
And every day means wading
Through endless guts and gore

I can even make my peace with “turning”,
With feasting on my friends
(On second thoughts, not Ade…
So maybe it depends)

But promise me when my time comes,
To punch off the clock and quit
That NO MATTER WHAT IS GOING ON
You won’t leave me in the …

Left in a stinky sewer,
Like a failed Shawshank breakout
Rotting in the dark
With pre-digested takeout

If you think your sewer smells bad,
Just wait a year or two.
With nowhere for it to drain away,
It’s a nasal hullabaloo!

It’s a fate worse than death, for sure,
And I may well be the first
To say these thoughts out loud:
Being a poo zombie is the worst!

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Image captured by Julian Turner.

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Writer, Poet, Daydreamer

6 thoughts on “The Rhyming Dead: A Fate Worse Than Death

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