Blood-steel bites deep, parts flesh from bone
My blade works methodically, precise
Through sinew, membrane, core unknown
Each piece falls, measured, cold as ice
Dark stains spread across my board
While tears stream down unfeeling cheeks
My hands move steady, forward, toward
The savage work my kitchen seeks
I dismember without mercy now
These layers peeling, falling fast
Though tears blur vision, I know how
To slice through all until the last
My victim split to perfect bits
No remnant of its former whole
I gather what my blade commits
And pour the onions in the bowl
