Dead lungs seizing up
She spits what she chokes on, into the trash.
Her face puckers at the aftertaste of blood.
She cringes disgusted to her very Being
She might’ve gotten use to the taste, but not the texture.
Her thoughts turn erratic and dark suddenly.
She knows this will happen, yet it still surprises her.
She hates this, stuck living as A Zombie,
Her thoughts turning dark and sinister after she eats
She tries to distract herself, stop thinking of homicide
She twitches at the phantom feel of blood on her fingers
She hates this, having to live like this It’s Like
She’s a monster; she knows she’s not
Her meals are never fresh; just stolen
She still feels like a killer when she’s Eating
Her time now spent staring at Jane Does
She pushes away the crave until it becomes unbearable
Her heart, isn’t as cold as it would seem and maybe
She needs to stop spending her time In A Morgue