Signs; For Poetic Inspiration

It was already ten minutes past my appointment, and the magazines did little to soothe my bordem. I started my usual habit of reading signs. Not the spiritual sort (though I do read my stars) but anything with a bit of text, such as, "Wet-Paint," information on general check-ups, jabs, and one particularity interesting one, "Patient Confidentiality." It got me thinking, and soon I was off on a random poetic tangent about zombies waiting for their health care...

Patient confidentiality

We promise we won’t tell

Even if your leg falls off

And freezes over hell

For equal rights the zombies have

To place a check-up call

It’s not as if chronic fatigue

Has never struck us all

They wait in line to place their vote

And choose the wiser bet

It must be all the brains they eat

To pass their IQ tests

For when the world does shortly end

They’ll be left standing tall

Embracing life in grotesque haste

Much stronger than us all