And the hymn took their skin away.
Not torn, but sculpted
Psychedelic veins weaving patterns
No human hand could draft.

Organs lifted from their cages,
Unlatched, uncoiled,
Recast in shapes of living art
A choreography of red geometry.

They were sisters, not by birth
But by transfiguration,
Their bodies a vision too raw for silence
And still, they danced.

And where others would see ruin,
They felt communion.
In their unveiled anatomy
They found the hymn complete.