Steel gleams against flesh,

Each cut draws silent screams

My hands shake, yet press on

Through layers deep and clean

Copper scent fills the air

As pieces fall like rain

I cannot stop the flow—

Both tears and vital stains

The rhythm of my knife,

A executioner's song

My fingers stained with life,

Teaching right from wrong

The deed complete at last

I wash away the shame

While onion vapors rise

From tonight's mundane game