I mean, zombies do exist.
I was just existing before
a walking funeral.
Living dead...alive
looking the devil in his eyes
screaming "take me!"
I've sowed,
now I'm reaping,
the grim reaper, grimly.
The devil smirked back at me,
Saying "your wish is not my command.
So your desires I cannot grant."
But I murdered the beast,
and the beast that I killed was me...
the monster inside of me.
Foe was she.
Woe is me.
Foolishly,
the only one I fooled...was me.
What good is it for a woman killing herself slowly.
Half alive, living a life deadly.
I am the zombie who used to be.
Searching for the life of the old me.
Finding her slowly.
Frankensteining her together perfectly.
Complete imperfection.
The reflection of what I thought was succession
in my Apocalypse of my own creation,
my own personal Armageddon.
A contradiction to my new beliefs.
What I believe is what I perceive.
And what I see is that I will be,
somebody.
