night of the living dead

I still remember the night of the living dead a tempestuous night when we should’ve stayed inside the weight of “beloved” stones up on our heads I heard stories about vengeful deceased coming back to life but if we’re full of hatred why are we laying side by side? I buried you you buried me but now we are just deteriorating rotting flesh wandering around when we should’ve rested in peace

Request permission to use this poem

Explore

Hello PoetryVoting

Write