The Living Dead

Fever claims its victims, snuffing life from countless hosts

But death's not the end; they rise once more, now haunted specter ghosts

Eyes vacant, lifeless, yet they walk with hunger burning bright

A grotesque rebirth in the dead of night, an unending, monstrous plight

Loved ones reawakened, not as they were, but void of human grace

A single drive consumes them now—a hunger they must chase

From doors they stumble, a twisted horde, devouring all they see

A nightmare born from fevered death, an endless, ghastly spree

Streets become a battleground, a place of ceaseless dread

Screams echo from the homes where the newly risen tread