Zombie Zak

My face it is hidden by brightness of bitter day;
My name it is written by shadows of darkness.
I am the warrior who walks the path of twilight
I am the poet who shadows the wonders of daybreak.
I am the parent of actions best left unsaid.
I seek the moderate epitome of the broken wheel.
I enshroud the destinies of the mighty,
And lay low the fortunes of the lesser known.
The totality of being is in question.
Doubt of the being, is the essence of thought.
Twisted, torn, tattered and born
We, of the unloved, scattered and scorned.
Eschew, we, the dead, those of the living.
Failure, we find, amongst the green and growing.
Essence, essence, wrack and ruin,
The grounds are of the borderline insane.
Run as you might, scatter as you try.
Escape is neither option nor form.
Time will whither the weapon you rely on; perish.
As we, wicked, the wicked we are, shall squander,
Your lives, upon the soil of our fertile imagination.
Testify, your salvation is at hand; woe is;
That your fate that awaits a certain doom.
Time now, it sits before you, choose.
Be you hunter or prey?
Be you garden or gardener?
Be you fair or foul?
Either way, the zombie chickens are hunting tonight.