Feminicide

You cooked my heart as a chef
Long enough to make it tender
There were no time for any grief
At my burial you'll bring a flower.

Even though you've snatched it from my chest
You were convinced that it was yours
It was the last stoke before my rest
It'll be ready in a few hours.

You'll serve it in a sophisticated plate
Such as those in which we've once ate
And you'll be proud of your meal
But you've not finished, now it's my skin that you peel.

Oh! I'm hurt !
I should not have let you take my heart !
Oh, bully,
Without you my skin wouldn't be sully

At least it's the end of my hematoma
The one that you were daily causing
This dinner will be the apogee of my drama
In a short time there will be no more bleeding.

Please don't let this story become yours
Because life has got to many flavors
You've got the power to change things, just report him
Before he tears down your dream.