The apocalypse is approaching quickly,

And everyone is worried sickly.

No one knows what to do;

With the wild zombies and the green goo

Every single person is packing up their things,

Trying to get money by selling their rings.

Leaving their houses and going to shelters;

Their performances are stellar.

The government is putting up walls,

Trying to keep the zombies from getting in at all.

The officers are patrolling every corner;

Hiding their emotions, being that most of them are mourners.

There are no more stores or shops,

No more street signs telling you to stop.

The world is coming to an end.

No more letter, messages, and calls to send.

But I will be perfectly fine,

For that I am not alive.

I am not, at all, worried;

Even the dead tell stories.