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Image for the poem The Zombie and the Saint~

The Zombie and the Saint~

She walked in a disjointed gait
down a dark desolate street
thigh highs taunt and tight
on a withered frame
hollow and desiccated.

Held together by a tight black
skirt, and laced corset.

I approached to ask  for a light.

Her dispassionate gaze
crawled over me,  a hunger
was there, undefined.

Dull, Defective, Defunct

I shrugged, and moved on.
A cold hand clutched
vice like,
as claws dug
into me, desperately.

I looked to her eyes
and found a light

Bright embers burning
deep.

And took her home
Or did
she take me?
I will never know.

But should I really care?

For she saved me.
She was my Saint.

By Philip Wardlow 2015
Written by PhilipWardlow (Ravenprince)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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