blood drips on the cold cement floor
as you slice their flesh with precision
dead bodies once full of life
hang motionless stripped of their skin
as the blood secretes from the throats of your victims
and collects in barrels,
you feel no guilt
your hands are stained with the blood of the innocent
your cold heart cares not for the lives which you have taken
blinded to the horrors which surround you daily
murderer of the innocent
demon without heart
with your tools, you hollow out their bodies
slicing and saving the bits and pieces of organs vital to life
the bone, flesh, and blood
a virtual nightmare in which you partake
this is an altar of sacrifice which has been built
to self-proclaimed gods
these sacrifices fuel their madness
these sacrifices fuel their insanity