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by Devon Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1565837
Born into a role that serves the benefit of someone else at the expense of yourself.
Born hog tied for the spit I am ready,
with an apple in the mouth and a fire under belly.

Poked and prodded by the tool of hungry fiends,
hands force stuffing till it's busting at the seams.

Skewered by the iron rod, spinning round and round I go.
Time turns me golden brown, roasting nice and slow.

So pretty is the sacrifice, cut up and badly beaten,
condemned into being, I was born to be eaten.
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