The Walking Dead, they creep at night.
The Walking Dead, they like to bite.
They shamble on thier two dead feet.
Always searching for human meat.
I escape in the day and hide at night.
For I fear the most, thier awful bite.
And if I ever join the dead,
Please shoot me once...in the head.
One of my friends is doing a school project where she had to write poetry about survival. I suggested a zombie survival poem. This is what I came up with in about two minutes, so it's pretty awful, and yet entertaining. That is all.