Eric the Zombie
Despite a fine job and a beautiful wife,
Eric had been dead for all of his life.
The world’s finest medical minds had concurred,
“This simply can’t be, it’s completely absurd”.
But Eric was a zombie from the day he was born,
With blood sodden skin that was tattered and torn.
Bones that were brittle and clothes that were creased,
But fairly well mobile, for one so deceased.
Ignoring the counsel of colleague and kin,
His wife stood by him through each thick and thin.
Attentive unto his every behest,
Like wiping the bile from the hole in his chest.
She’d pluck every maggot from inside his nose
Then reattach all his dismembered toes.
Not once did she waiver, from when they were wed.
Eric was blessed (except for being dead).
But the love she bestowed, always met with disdain,
And considered by most absolutely insane,
Did prove, in the end, altogether in vain.
For he killed her one day, and devoured her brain.