Zombies

Yes you, sure you. For some may say your just a dirty shoe. But no, to me its a glass slipper. On a deserted track, an empty lot. You encase my feet and we are riding the trains. Which perpetually take me the wrong direction. The opposite way I need to go. So what gives because I will take you dear shoe, right now. Otherwise its a wait. And the gray clouds will set in. My taste is too few, just like my vodka. Things seem watered down. Not enough for me and my shoe, my cup, and holder. My sea glass slipper now laying on the tracks. Which they themselves have 100 years of blood, sweat, and silent tears. But I will grab you my lost shoe, its a risk, a jump, and maybe to nowhere. But well worth. Then I will just watch the trains. The silver bullets heading right through me. One way only. But see I will try it. For near death is real and I am alive So i have died before and can die some more. Dying, once, twice, or seven times again, they all are twins. So I can fuel off you as long as I can and then I can be reborn. Whether a miserable force feed, a carnal match, or a soft and quiet dismemberment. My birth is up to you your taste as the final say. At least my death shall always be my own. So if I die again. I scour the fields and determine my ends based on your means.