Hide  sad  begging  eyes,

for  negligence  is  all

a  hungered  beast's  got  to  gain

of  thrift  hands.

Now,  if  turned  to  orenda,

lack  of  care  will  be  repaid;

curse  the  soul

and  cold  steel  will  slip  through  the  warm  flesh."

Placing  wound  upon  her  lips,

warm  flow  seemed  such  succulence,

creating  a  thirst  sustained

much  longer  than  the  cut's  stream,

so  knife-work  developed  new  springs,

and  soon  thirst  turned  hunger

for  the  taste  of  own  skin.

Oh,  for  the  negligence  done  in.

If  she  had  thought  of  those  once  loyal

she'd  have  flesh  on  her  bones

but  it's  not  hard  to  see

the  ignorance  has  torn  her  up

and  self  sustenance  is  not  enough

for  the  hex.

Still  with  desire  un-satiated

she'd  lost  control

she'd  become  fated.

The  starved  moistened  gleam

might  have  saved,  if  she'd  seen

all  salivated  creatures  fangs,

the  life  of  her  trembling  child.

The  hunger  is  spreading.

Oh  my  dear,  orenda  has  maddened.

Take  chase;  imbibe  the  bloodline.

Do  devour  your  own  kind.

The  thirst  will  never  alleviate;

it's  reciprocal.