where for art thou Romero?
they never sleep but we have to.
mournful eyes never blinking, searching.
patiently waiting for a chance to feed
mouths that will never know taste again..
shambling and clumsy, but many.
as numerous as we used to be.
their faces, mockingly similar to ours
dirty , sorrowful and gaunt.
desperate forays for supplies are never enough
but we can’t think about the future
we can’t even bear to think about tomorrow.
My first poem of the NaPoWriMo without any stabilisers or systems supporting me, it's about zombies.
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