My Butcher, I Thought You Were So Loving

All the time you're taking,
Must be a sign that you're breaking.
And all the burning, aching
Is just another hard forsaking.

Hold me whenever,
Maybe never.
I know you're busy, truly
But why are you unruly?

I see your eyes, willingly disintersted
In the day's catch.
You hunt for pleasure killing
And cut coldly without match.

How could anyone, precisely
Kill a heart this way?
You're perfect and wise, see?
You see blood every day.

I wonder how you bare
Looking in the mirror.
I'd say that its rare
To see someone clearer
The way I see you now with your meat cleaver.