Game. A very good one, even.

So they bite!

my skin I shall reinforce
with honey and tea in a mixture of broken glass and teared steak

my cheek shall be in mourning
as it will stay at home, alone from a body full of movement

defense, they cry in anger and hope
yet we fall in a naughty game of relentless squander

say, should I be in more need of thou?
should I read more into your intentions?

we shoot guns yet they stay loaded
poking at our shoulders
crying to be fired with
and silently eating at our skin

load and load and load I shall
in a fiery stance of crying wisdom
as no one changes bullets
I shall try to eat what is left