by the book
walking down the halls,two straight lines,
they call for the zombies that will serve them,
walk stop go and again,
stricter rule than at home,
i cut my-self and fall again,
an imperfection,
oh dear me,
what must we do?
what must we say,
our society has crumbled,
it was a shamble all along,
and as the zombies walk one by one,
i pittie those who will not fall.
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