never did i believe
the deceased could be so pleasant
they dont argue
nor do they complain
the skin and organs
of this person slain
are what feed my hunger
whats left over
if put together right
make a wonderful place to slumber
once the supplies run out
off to the graveyard i go
maybe next time
the head could be more usefull
how about a new soup bowl
confined to this room
for the time being
the stiffened remains
my only company
yet they are hidden away
no eyes can see
no one would understand
the sanctity
that is my sanity
