In a kitchen cloaked in shadows, where the candles softly burn, A chef with stars upon his chest, where dark desires churn. Michelin's finest, revered by day, but night reveals his lust, For the flesh of humankind, to feed his cravings' trust.
His knives are honed to razor’s edge, his pots gleam bright and clean, A symphony of silverware, in this macabre cuisine. He dances 'round the stovetop flames, with passion in his eyes, Creating dishes sumptuous, beneath the moonlit skies.
He marbles flesh with tender care, a butcher’s artful hand, Each cut a work of twisted love, in this forbidden land. With herbs and spices, he conceals the secrets of his trade, A gourmet feast of dark delight, in shadows deftly made.
His patrons dine in blissful cheer, unaware the price, Of delicacies that they devour, the finest in a slice. The flavors rich, the textures pure, a culinary dream, Yet in the chef's own heart, a silent, haunting scream.
For though he wears the accolade, of Michelin's great fame, His soul is stained with deeds so dark, his mind a burning flame. In every bite, a whispered cry, a tale of life now past, A chef who’s bound by twisted love, to secrets that can't last.
But still he crafts with fervent skill, each plate a deadly art, A testament to passion's grip, that grips his very heart. And in the quiet kitchen’s depths, where only shadows dwell, The Michelin Star chef creates, his dishes straight from hell.
