Has my body been offered,
Smoked or freshly cut.
Am I at least basted in oil,
For a proper glaze,
To my flesh.

Has this meal,
Been prepped by me,
Or do I see through
Your eyes.

I put everything by,
My sensations would deny.
So at least one day
I could taste their stale remains.

I've watched my every hour,
Then minute, in succession.
You haven't seen all that I've seen.
I wonder on the basis of this,
If you'd reach out your hand,
Before I'd have to scream.

I threw everything aside,
My life had denied.
Sucking on a carcass,
Hoping for a feast.

I've reached where they slaughter,
In enmity's gut,
My eyes drove them away,
I get that a lot.