Zombie Conversion – A Quatrain Poem by Karl Becker
A telltale sound pursues me as
I trip along the passageway
A shambling, scuffing raspiness
that chills and turns my nerves to fraySlowly pursued by too many to count
A terror that sours my stomach with bile
I turn unprepared, yet determined to mount
an offense that will purchase some distance, some miles
Yet my turnabout yields only one or two kills
as my weapon misfires, then refuses to work
I drop it and run, bitter agony spills
from my throat as I scream, my horror uncorked
To my wrist is attached a revenant dead
By his teeth which have given me that which I fled
My fate is now sealed, the infection is spread
No longer I run as my deep wound is bled
My systems arresting, my heart skips a beat
A gradual stillness its progress complete
This death of undeath, a looking glass life
Autonomous ambulant primitive strife
My one aim to feed on the living remains
Of that elusive essence that Mankind retains
Society gone, universe to myself
I wander the earth overflowing from hell
A terror that sours my stomach with bile
I turn unprepared, yet determined to mount
an offense that will purchase some distance, some miles
Yet my turnabout yields only one or two kills
as my weapon misfires, then refuses to work
I drop it and run, bitter agony spills
from my throat as I scream, my horror uncorked
To my wrist is attached a revenant dead
By his teeth which have given me that which I fled
My fate is now sealed, the infection is spread
No longer I run as my deep wound is bled
My systems arresting, my heart skips a beat
A gradual stillness its progress complete
This death of undeath, a looking glass life
Autonomous ambulant primitive strife
My one aim to feed on the living remains
Of that elusive essence that Mankind retains
Society gone, universe to myself
I wander the earth overflowing from hell
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