I just found this poem I wrote a while ago. It was my final for my poetry class, a sonnet in the shakespearean rhyme scheme.
With shuffling feet he stumbles
Dead fingers streching towards my face
The flesh of his arm crumbles
My heart's a hummingbirds pace
He lets aloud a mighty groan
My fingers tighten on the bat
For although I am all alone
I'm not going to put up with that
I bash his head and his brains splatter
Crumpling up he hits the ground
Blood rains down with pitter-patter
A terrible, unearthly sound
Of my city, they did rob me
Mother-fucker I hate Zombies
With shuffling feet he stumbles
Dead fingers streching towards my face
The flesh of his arm crumbles
My heart's a hummingbirds pace
He lets aloud a mighty groan
My fingers tighten on the bat
For although I am all alone
I'm not going to put up with that
I bash his head and his brains splatter
Crumpling up he hits the ground
Blood rains down with pitter-patter
A terrible, unearthly sound
Of my city, they did rob me
Mother-fucker I hate Zombies
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
I've seen some kids picking out of the dumpster, but I never had to do that. Getting 2-3 dollars a day wasn't that hard, you could always spare change it or find someone willing to give you a couple bucks for an odd job here and there.