Here is the poem by my 12 year daughter that I previously promised y’all – enjoy!
Little zombie at my door,
I blow your brains across the floor.
Another zombie comes to die,
to eat me in a lullaby.
You are just a touch too slow,
how many killed? I do not know.
The living dead, they want my brains,
their blood instead flows down the drains.
Their bodies lay at my feet,
to zombies we are living meat.
Why eat us? I once asked,
that zombie was the very last.
I blew his brains across the floor,
there are no zombies at my door.
Cute huh? Anyone have a number for a therapist?