Professional

I keep my knives sharp

Dance around muscle groups like paper

Separate so neatly at the joint

Falls away easily if you follow my map

Embedded in each creature like dotted lines

And I trace these with my trusty knife

I fabricate

Destroy to create this

Is it wrong to be so callous?

Have I lost my human heart?

I can look one in the eyes and I see parts

Knives extend my reach in metal

I’m an artist in my right

Is it wrong or am I evil?

I just want to feed you

I keep my knives sharp

Let the weight trace on these darting fingers

Manufactured to be torn apart

And I’m skillful in this occupation

I can stand and argue virtue

With my elbows dripping red

Differentiate the living from the dead

Is it wrong to call them product

When we’re breathing the same air?

Is it vicious? Am I evil?

I just want to please you

We all end up the same way

It all ends the same