Tomb

Danse Macabre
tombs opening.
Zombies come fourth;
to reveal their bare bones.
Cracks and crisp ice
underfoot,
Even their breath freezes
to resemble gooey
snot. How they would have loved
to once-more feel the bitter
morning-air
But they are DEAD…
They creep back into their gelid crypts
and sleep another thousand years.

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