Young men are driven by desire
Seeking not justice, but self-
Fulfillment, and Satisfaction.
In walks an exceptionally rich 
Young man, master of an estate
He was delivered by-will,
A mere twenty years of age,
Dreams of money, and a girl.
The lost woman of his dreams
A zombie by any other name,
Wanders into his land, slowly, and
Appears before him outside his home.
Silence corrodes the somber scene
Minutes pass in the fog
A soft mist envelops the ground.
Lifeless stares from zombie and human
A mixed emotional moment for one
A late-night snack for another
Man pleads with zombie for reconciliation,
His heart torn and unsure;
Zombie approaches slowly, 
Stepping on a wallet, a mirror.
A breaking of glass startles the
Native human, owner of the lot,
He shoos the young flesh-eater
As she tears his face off and 
Swallows his brains in a gulp
In his final thoughts he’s satisfied,
The house left to deteriorate alone.
Zombie dream-girl discriminates not by
Sex, orientation, economic distinction
Everything’s equally tolerated and despised in zombie-mind,
Money, war, materials
Only the primal call of food, sustenance matters;
We should all be zombies,
Lifeless flesh-shells, lacking reason.
If we aren’t already by the time I read this.

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