Poem: Hollywood Got it Wrong

Here’s a poem I wrote.



Hollywood got it wrong.
Desolate malls
Invaded by zombies
Seeking brains
Are not so terrifying
As those already filled
By the living dead—
Gaping holes
In their core,
They wander with
Endless appetites,
Steadily consuming the world.
Perfect suburban homes already carrying
An air of foreboding
Hanging over wedding albums
And children’s toys;
Where chainsaws and baseball bats
Gather dust in the garage,
Impotent to protect anyone
From the quiet grinding horror.
Cubicle walls already stained
With blood
Spilled by workplace shooters
Who could no longer contain
The rage that comes
From seeing their own flesh
Hanging from their bones,
Overwhelming their noses
With the putrid stench
Of death.


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