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ZomBabies
November 7, 2018
I was raised by what I've read
Books that teach to raise the dead
I don't use it for good or for evil
I use it for jobs that seem primeval
I try not to act too suspicious
Ignore the zombie that’s washing my dishes
Look past the gardner who is undead
Disregard the butler without a head
I live alone with my zombie creations
I’ve never been one for lasting relations
There is no father, just me; no drama
I'm like the zombies’ baby mama
© Rikki W., Voorhees, NJ
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This is just a simple rhyming poem I made for my creative writing class. I find that the restrictions and rules of rhyming is a breeding ground for creativity in my mind. Nothing really inspired me to write this poem. It was just off-the-cuff rhyming and high school level immaturity.