The Undead... macabre poetry

For Halloween, I will be clad
in my epidermal dress.
Wearing these rags of my anatomy
Called skin.
Now withering and shriveling
Like putrefied melon.
The only jewelries are these maggots
Crawling to and from my empty sockets.
For cologne, I have this sickly stench
Of a cocktail from decomposing corpse.
Now undead, they can kill me not.
Tonight, I will lodge my sharp canines
In their youthful flesh and blood
Can I ever resist the smell of their youthful blood?
I kind of miss that grove
Where they deposited my carcass.
I fed on the flesh of wild beats for a century
But tonight, judgement comes to your thresholds
My fingers pushing through your dermis
And sucking up whatever was left of your entrails.
I have come to bid adieu
To things undone.
I was a witch you accused
As you lynched and burnt me
But now, I'm more than a witch
I come in glorious metaphor
Of the undead.
And my comrades - the vampires and ghouls
Assist my noble cause.
The smell of death rent the air
'cos I have no heart to ricochet between
Vengeance and forgiveness.
This price you must pay.

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