The Autopsy Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Blade number three,
start cutting at the toes
up past the knee
soon hit the Roman nose,
the best of stainless steel
skilled hands and steady nerves
will slowly peel
skin of the curves.
I shall dispense with care
or decency
dead eyes can only stare-
eternity.
The saw cuts through the ribs
into the spine
you could have told me fibs
you bloody swine,
instead you robbed me blind
stuck up your finger,
I watched, and from behind
where devils linger
you drove your silly tool
into my breath
declaring me the fool
who'd welcome death.
They chose the one who needs
to know the facts
behind the awesome deeds
and evil acts.
I was appointed then
to slice the beast
of all the usual men
he looked the least
like one you would respect
or be his friend
his spine was not erect
it had a bend
there was no heart in place
no human soul
and in his weasel face
he wore a mole
that had the Devil's mark
smelled of decay
a green that lit the dark
then flew away.
The place you found for me
here in this rubbish pit
where little devils pee
it is for you, you shit.