"Let me pick your brain," it said,
as the zombie cracked my head;
"Lots of brain food in your skull,
but it seems I'm never full."
"Listen, Dead Boy, if you don't 'mind'
there's a new dish I'm inclined
to recommend to every ghoul
I am sure you'll find it cool."
"You're a little late my friend,
there's no way to start again.
I'm chomping on your cerebellum
and cerebrum, like a felon."
"But I don't feel like being eaten."
"Yet your flesh is fast depleatin'."
"Well, okay, sorry to seem so rude;
I guess I'll just be zombie food."
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| Writing Prompt |
The challenge is to write a poem that contains some form of horror or thriller. No more than 100 words. |
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