The truth (a poem)

You think you're so much better. So much nicer. Its not true. You're just as shallow, and just as conceited. You're not some sort of saint. You're just as bad as him. The only difference is that he never claimed to be a good person.

An entry form the zombie Apocalypse

The sun sets tonight. As red as the stains that mar my cloths. The blood of both friends and family cover my white dress. I came into this fight a girl, with nothing but my guns, and so much fear. I leave a woman, ready to defend what is left of humanity.