zombie

I have the skills That normal zombies don't No one's ever seen anything Like it in the mist It's not gonna help Your agonishing escape This moment so close To being saved That ending takes Lots of guts. Join free now And name a price Up and down the sum With which anything is bought The franchise of the respectable And not so respected Captured beings like ourselves Now cought in a bear trap That ending takes Lots of guts. If you've lost out On a couple of victims Why go back for them Once they have gone? The U G L Y outcome Of a without you/me oblivion The going to town That makes my skin crawl That ending takes Lots of guts.

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Silent One

Date: 1/6/2024 11:59:00 AM

Your poem unfolds like a cryptic narrative, weaving a tale of skills that set the speaker apart from 'normal zombies' in the mist. The sense of mystery and urgency is palpable, creating an atmosphere of suspense and anticipation. The repetition of the line 'That ending takes lots of guts' adds a layer of ominous foreshadowing, hinting at the high stakes and courage required for what lies ahead...

Thresha Reese
Date: 1/8/2024 3:19:00 PM

Indeed... Could be it's not only my skin that it makes crawl, in the mist :-) TY for the read - made me grin.