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The Butcher [August 30, 2016]
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Poetry He carves her body with his blood-stained Knife
He laughs as she bleeds, as he takes her life
He chops the meat up, wraps it by the slice
Puts it in the freezer, buried in the ice
They wonder where she went, she's still missing on the news
But she's dead, they're searching for evidence being consumed
The meat so tender, he wears her scent like a perfume
While he devours her, the police cancel their pursuit
He finds another victim, walking alone at night
He creeps up behind her, She doesn't put up a fight
She awakes in a basement, blood visible in the dim light
Crimson trickles from a table, wrapped meat stacked tight
The butcher walks slowly down his dusty stairs
She pulls at her chains, after seeing his apron and wares
He grabs his blood-stained knife and walks towards her
He stabs her in the chest, and starts cutting without a word
She screams and fights, but loses too much blood
She dies with a look of horror on her face, her head drops with a thud
He carves the meat after having his delicious fun
Alone in his basement, he eats with the rising sun
