The undead are whom I truly adore
For their qualities are something the living need more
They cannot judge, feel or see
The chaos of reality

Oblivious to the madness
The grief and the sadness
No trembling in fear
No whispers in the ear
Of secrets for the breaking
The trust for the taking

Their taste is numbed by the cold
The young as stiff as the old
No competition to be had
No recognition of mom or dad

We zombies are alone but together
Like a slaughtered bird's scattered feathers
But most of all that I value high
The dead have forgotten how to cry