The Zombie Feeder

Little Marcelle had a lover;

A young and lovely one;

Poor lover one day died.

Smashed his cranium on the ground,

Tripped and fell off a cliff, they said.

Little Marcelle got really sad.

For there was no one who could love her more,

Or no one she could love more.

But looking at the splattered body,

That one day took form of her most beloved soul;

She understood that there was still some beauty left.

The crimson amorphous mass

Seemed to be quite tasteful.

But obviously, not for her

Yet.

In that moment, she realized what had to do.

It were hard times, you know;

Something should be done.

With a shovel and a wheelbarrow

She started to gather the pieces,

Pieces of flesh, organs and bones,

And throw them at the cart

With a salty taste on her mouth.

The girl produced no sound.

For there was no sound that could understand her grief.

As she finished the task;

Pierced the shovel on the earth.

And left the place with heavy steps

Conducting the wheelbarrow back home.

She knew that what she was doing was right.

The best thing that she could do.

The poor dead lover would be happy if he only knew

How he saved her life with his own death.

When she got home, in the horizon could see the dusk.

Soon the darkness would fell over her;

And then they would come.

She hurried to the second floor and reached the window;

Bringing the wheelbarrow upstairs.

And waited.

Waited for not so long,

But time seemed to be infinite at that moment.

And they then appeared.

Tripping, stumbling and moaning.

Empty eyes gazing nothing.

But with one thing on their mind.

She started to throw her lover’s leftovers at them

With bare hands.

The disgusting feeling she felt by doing it

Could not be compared to the one of her sorrow.

She cried as the limbs flied through the air

To be devoured by some of those monsters.

They seemed to be satiated and fled.

They would come back, she knew it.

So, the only thing she could do was

Find another lover

Before they found her.