Stained by blood,
my lips of red,
and diabetic sweet.
Full of flesh,
from inside out,
of all the souls I eat.
Trembled and yet full of fear,
of guilt that's laid upon me.
I cannot change my course of time,
for time will not disarm me.
Tattoos have became the marks,
and scars on me to handle.
Smaller is the head of each,
to me as is the animal.
Picking threw the meat in teeth,
I am for worse,
the cannibal...
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cannibal-3/
