Civil War: Self-Cannibalism Poem by Wasan H Ibrahim

Weird is the sight,
It stands upright,
Holding the knife with something
Which were hands,
Tearing its own flesh to parts.
Tearing…tearing…tearing…
The blood overflows…
Watering the lands
With darkness of fires.
No more a human being to be defined,
Nor a legend known and old,
Bestial it is…a glutton on no meat nor plant,
But on its own flesh, raw and damp.
Devastated, it could not but fall,
And its legs it amputates with a roar…
Face…no more…torso…no more
Dragging its grotesque trace.
Defeated? or triumphant in grace?
Where death is the banner,
And the route is the war for war…