Zombie Procession in UC Berkeley

Every day, the world is born,
And placed into its nebulous cradle,
And on the dot, the zombies march.

Heads down, hands limp, emotionless,
We walk through this newborn world.
If you are walking too, beware,
For laughter attracts death glares
As if to say, "You are alive?
How have you survived?"

The morning is reborn but the people,
the people are not yet awakened.
Zombies cannot hear the birds nor see how the fog softens the light.

They can only head to class.