My stomach a grave of dead flesh,
     I feasted on the carcass of


             The deceased
now entombed within.

There was no burial song,
       Just the ritual shredding

Of flesh.
        

I'm now content, and the bones
     I discard as if tooth picks

Of satisfaction.

  
I'm not sorrowful,
           For my belly is full.

As I gaze at the flowers,

  forna I will never desecrate
               your beauty.