why o why must the cow die?

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This is a poem of the highest caliber written by my phenomenal son, Kegan:

At night I hear the screams,
of victims awakened from their dreams.
The sound of gunshots fill the night.
I wonder if I’ll survive my plight.
I bar the doors with wooden chairs,
to keep away from all their stares.
A can of mace, a forty five,
is all I need to stay alive.
They claw, they scratch upon my door.
I’ve tried to stop them from doing more.
I stay all alone in this room,
wondering if this is my impending doom.
I plan, I plot, I think, I derive,
trying just to stay alive.
Is it worth it? Staying alive?
When I’m the only one left to survive.
With this I draw my last breath,
as I pull the pin to my certain death.
I open the door I laugh, I grin.
They Have no idea what’s about to begin.
I run through the crowd of undead,
as I run my face turns red.
I see the window, I take a dive,
trying my best to stay alive.
I hit the glass, drop the grenade,
this Is their last serenade.
As I fall I hear the boom,
sending them to their certain doom.
I hit the ground, I hear something crack.
God I hope it wasn’t my back.
I see the building start to sway,
the bricks and mortar giving way.
I roll over and I sigh,
trying hard not to cry.
I prop myself up and look around,
trying not to make a sound.
-Kegan Clifton

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Filed under Life, Life and Death, Strange Days, entertainment, family, fun, short stories

Tags: kegan, poem, zombie