Her corpse hath risen from the dead

The grave’s no place to lie her head

She came to live with me instead


She slumbers in her morning lace

Then through the night, the grounds she’ll pace

So I wear garlic just in case


Her skin is rotting off, I swear

Can see the flakes throughout her hair

I hope she keeps it in her lair


Her decomposing-carcass-scent

Comes wafting down the hallway vent

I guess, at least, she’s paying rent


© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien


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