The Tragedy of a Zombie

One night a man was lost amidst some trees
And met a bat whose fur was white as death.
It bit his hand before he knew to flee,
And soon a rotting fume became his breath.

Next hunger crowded out his frightened thoughts;
He salivated smelling human meat.
A drug to cure this blight could not be bought;
No need was stronger than the need to eat.

But since the loss of brain control was slow,
He had a chance to zombie life resist.
Beneath his chin he aimed his brains to blow:
He shot the gun but in his haste he missed.

His jaw was gone and soon his soul was too;
His body rose but sadly couldn't chew.