why have i been raised tonight
i thought i was finally free of this fight

now i find myself to be mastered
by this evil, selfish bastard

perhaps he thinks this corpse is empty
but to my dismay, it again contains me

except that i have no control
trapped in here, a helpless soul

that is still a subject to all the senses
but left without the blessed defenses

that could help me cope with the damage done
to my body by time and a criminal's gun

my nerves are fired with unending pains
of open wounds and bloodless veins

i can't stop screaming, though it's only my mind
crying out and trying to find

an escape or a way to state my case
to this vile person in front of my face

my movements are not my own, so I can't even mime
i only pray that he will notice my tears of slime

I wrote this in response to a challenge.  I won second place.

These were the criteria:
Write a poem about the undead. It HAS TO rhyme.
Make it horrific and sad. Include self pity and agony.