Zombie

Zombie: Cold, weak, and no aim I break through the large coffin I was buried in. the black, soft soil washes over me as my heavy putrid limbs graze the rusted nails beneath them. Coated in the rotten stench of death I rise with militant. My emotionless fridge eyes glare at the cemetery. Nothing, no feeling comes over me. As I walk my tough skin rips raveling yellow veins and disintegrating muscle, yet no blood circulates from my gaping wounds. Hunger consumes me, human flesh thrives me. My restless body wonders from its shallow empty grave. I have become a lifeless zombie.