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"Behind the steel gates, the butcher’s work begins, death in its most twisted form."

Steel hooks hang, dripping red

Carcass swung, butchered dead

Bloodied floor, flesh is torn

Groaning screams, death is sworn

Blades grind deep, shredding skin

Bones snap loud, entrails spin

Meat and bone, a twisted game

Pathological slaughter, endless pain

Saws cut sharp, muscles break

Ripping tendons, life at stake

Screams decay, silence grows

In the pit, the butcher knows

Guts spill out, rotting fast

Wasted flesh, doomed to last

Mangled remains, twitch and rot

In the slaughterhouse, all is caught

Steel hooks hang, dripping red

Carcass swung, butchered dead

Bloodied floor, flesh is torn

Groaning screams, death is sworn

Hatchets swing, marrow drains

Gore-soaked hands, butcher reigns

Veins are split, the fever grows

Mutilation’s art bestows

"In the endless cycle of suffering, nothing survives the path of slaughter."