I pray before the altar
my hands spread, my soul bared
the zenith of my desire nears
Twisted bone and roasted flesh
the bitter conquest of my foe
The spoils of my victory
More and more are brought before me
Each presenting their flavors
My tongue is my flail
My teeth are my sword
Thanksgiving is my battlefield
Black because I hurt inside
Black because it feels real
Black because it matches my pain
Black because the world is gray
Black because it draws the eye
Black because society is a lie
Black because its slimming
Black because it hides the (food) stains
Black because I am afraid of being different
Black is all there is to me
