I tripped and fell, and need my skin back. You did not have my permission. You took and ate without asking… in some sort of dark unholy communion and not in remembrance of me…
You had no right, and I should have taken ten fold from you that very night.
As I woke, sheets still sticky and sticking to my back, and bleeding through my shirt all day… I was never so thankful for my black leather jacket.
Yes, ten fold would have done nicely… or at the very least a start.
Five Rutting scars, now faded and covered by ink these twenty three years.
I have my skin back. You ate flesh, You drank blood, and played the dangerous line, and you proceeded to judge those that did far less…
My flesh is reclaimed, My spirit is returned, and fire reignited
For the tearing of flesh I owe you
For the cannibalism I owe you worse
Truly, You owe me…
But I choose to release you from that debt… by grace, and favor, and forgiveness… My Flesh is Restored.
The Baron's Pen 