Chanting prayers, dreaming of ships just beyond the horizon,

Another day, another hour, just another minute he wishes to live.

No other choice but one, no other food, no other flesh but his own.

No other way to feed his unfortunate child.

In the middle of nowhere, on this desolate rock, he cut his upper arm.

Blood, not a drop allowed to waste, meat, sickening yet juicy sweet

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