Fracture the sternum with sacred contempt,
Flesh tears like parchment soaked in brine,
Each heartbeat a blasphemy,
Each pulse a traitor’s hymn.

She carves through cartilage to hush his name,
No scream, no plea, just splintered meat,
The axe becomes her doctrine,
And blood her final tongue.

Lungs collapse like defiled walls,
Ribs unzipped by ancestral guilt,
Sin bred in the womb,
Now exorcised in rupture.

His silence…
A stillness born of blade and bile,
Pulse annulled by split decree.

No spirits fled, no demons cried,
Only wet red gospel,
A sermon of sinew
On the pulpit of decay

She was not possessed,
She was instructed.