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"With the gleam of the scalpel, the harvest begins, tissue torn, flesh reaped in a dance of decay..."

Scalpel gleams, flesh turns black

Peeling skin, bones will crack

Dripping wounds, rancid breath

Harvest rites in stench of death

Rotting slab, limbs are torn

Severed veins, meat still warm

Gloved hands rip, tendons fray

Slashing deep, life decays

Maggots writhe, feast inside

Putrid gore, spread so wide

Sinews snap, filth runs free

Stitching parts in blasphemy

Cadaver stripped, butchered raw

Stolen flesh, skinless maw

Grafted limbs, stitched in place

Reeking art of death’s embrace

Rotting slab, limbs are torn

Severed veins, meat still warm

Gloved hands rip, tendons fray

Slashing deep, life decays

"From corpse to canvas, the harvest is complete, only remnants of death and flesh remain."