The big man can't accept his own blame

So he yells at the kids

Because children don't have brains

His finger is sharp as a knife

His brown eyes that kill with such might

The children cry

He doesn't care

He eats them with his words

He picks them apart

Like pickled ham skin that he peels apart with his bladed fingers

The pink bleed showing, his white machetes devouring

The children die slowly

They lose their innocence

But he feasts on it

And he returns to his den

To feed for another day once again