The Infected (Lachness-Monster)

‘Tis a most serious affliction
One could describe
A terrible hunger
Deep down inside

The wanting, pleading
Driving you mad
A frightening seeding
Of ghoulish demand

Stumbling around
No care for place
Lip smacking need
Alive on each face

A young man turns
Heart heavily sad
And mumbling, burns
“This day is so bad.

Seeing these people
Every other day of the year
Ignoring and moaning
About love without cheer.

But this day I hate
Like no other around.”
The one with the saint
Valentine had come round

Zombies purchasing
Cliché and expected
Gifts without blinking
For they were infected.

The End

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