They rise

The grave yard is an eerie place 
Graves are dug, fresh mud displaced 
At night mist surrounds the grounds 
The dead shall rise without a sound 
They break from their muddy graves 
They punch the earth as they wake  
Their bones are brittle 
Their skin opaque
Their eyes null of colour 
They breathe, although fake
They walk in a stiff awkward gate 
Some trip and tumble 
While others thrive 
Their minds are a wonder
Complexity profound 
They wonder why they have been
Exhumed from the ground 
Their thirst needs quenching 
They haven’t eaten in years 
Their stomach grumbles 
But not for what we eat 
It’s like the saying, you are what you eat 
Guess who’s on the menu
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

This is a polite ask, if you have took the time to read this poem please be kind and leave a review. thanks jeff