The Grave

On this beautiful night

I wish to be with my mother

she would shine so bright


As I walk to the cemetery

I wish I were having some strawberries


I think of that I hope he won’t be mad

I hear grass rustle, I hear a muffle,

I keep walking, I keep hearing talking


I get to the grave, I see a cave

I see all these zombies; I think I see my mommy

She runs up to me, I feel her fear


I look at her, “Mom, is that you standing here?”

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