How tender and succulent
Your breasts,
So milky white and
A perfect fit for my palms.
I like to nibble
On your scrumptious liegs,
And grasp your thigh
Oh so tenderly.
You cluck as
My hands lovingly
Clutch
Your soft middle.
I have but to reach
For an axe
One swipe and
You will be ready.
To bake
To grill
To barbecue
To fry.
Anything I choose
It doesn't matter
Because you,
Chicken dearest, are born to die. |