Hannibal Lecter.
The soft, sweet flesh, so succulent,
A delicacy, a secret.
Her corpse still fresh in my basement,
Surrounded by the wine, so silent.
My knife slides swiftly in between her joints,
Slowly, calmly, carefully slide the blade.
The pinker and plumper flesh I cut…
…The more hearty and fresh the meal I cook.
Serve her to my guests; they have no clue,
Her flesh piled on plates of black and blue.
Her arm is the starter, like braised pork…
…They devour it like animals, filth.
Then her liver is served in a pie,
Another success; another dish.
My guests are like vultures eating prey,
Animals, instincts, that's all we are.
They swallow her just like Mischa,
My sister, my only friend, gone.
They ate her, she was only young,
They were punished, they deserved it.
Oh dear, the police are here,
They are so tedious, ridiculous.
They plan to arrest me. Ha!
There are no bodies; only hers still here.
I suppose it is time for me to disappear,
I'll find a new home in a new country.
Wherever I go they will follow me.
Why don't we make the game a bit more fun.
