0531

narrow halls echo sounds of stepping feet,
wind through them brings a smell of sweet,
aromas flow to the nose laying in bed,
with a pillow or two wrapped around the head,
wrinkled flesh desires the wrinkled meal,
cooked dark and black hard to cut with steel,
placed by the bed as muscles awake,
a groaning sound made from the painful ache,
gripping the knife and stabbing it down,
cutting through the black to the darker brown,
slices heard going on the plate,
anger in eating from his full of hate,
biting down hard with a chomp of teeth that remain,
although full of hate he does not complain,
sinking his head into the pillows while chewing,
he then gets some stuck and begins spewing,
holding his neck gasping for air,
but others were told to leave him there,
reaching out his hands but nothing to hold,
he dies there but was already stone cold.