Hide sad begging eyes,
for negligence is all
a hungered beast's got to gain
of thrift hands.
Now, if turned to orenda,
lack of care will be repaid;
curse the soul
and cold steel will slip through the warm flesh."
Placing wound upon her lips,
warm flow seemed such succulence,
creating a thirst sustained
much longer than the cut's stream,
so knife-work developed new springs,
and soon thirst turned hunger
for the taste of own skin.
Oh, for the negligence done in.
If she had thought of those once loyal
she'd have flesh on her bones
but it's not hard to see
the ignorance has torn her up
and self sustenance is not enough
for the hex.
Still with desire un-satiated
she'd lost control
she'd become fated.
The starved moistened gleam
might have saved, if she'd seen
all salivated creatures fangs,
the life of her trembling child.
The hunger is spreading.
Oh my dear, orenda has maddened.
Take chase; imbibe the bloodline.
Do devour your own kind.
The thirst will never alleviate;
it's reciprocal.
