#This is…sort of an expression of somethinf I keep dealing with.

[impulsive-writing-hell]

Fed to Slaughter

Oh how good

Oh how great

To find generous food

On our plate.

Our lips quivered

From tastes and scents galore

Directly delivered

From each feeling to your front door.

But now in order to feast

In this rough winter

We must first slay the beast;

For our love it does hinder.

And if only to hold you,

Slay it I will.

With the cold mourning dew

Shall come my first kill.

And even if just to see

If we really are just right,

You can leave it to me

To take the first bloody bite.

The beast must be slain

That much is sadly true.

Yet despite my own disdain,

I’d do it just for you.