Appetite
A Dawn Without
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Dark and sticky, my mind torments A membrane upon my teeth remains of your lament Father, mother - your tastefulness Producing such a tasty morsel Residing at my table head Peas and porridge are best served hot And revenge presented cold This irony that does serve me A poetic end to slander told Peas and porridge, you're in my pot Just nine years old It's dreadfully sad your epitaph Won't read like contents of this note Savory breeding and procreative tastefulness Your pedigree becomes a tasty mess Bothered, smothered - my lexicon you spurn So duly I shall condescend your worth to me in simplest terms: Memories of your bereaved I admit it seems obscene The acorn of your family tree is passing through me in my feces My recipe culled from reams of grief Archived behind your disbelief Lying in wait - my stricken hand Shall caress temptation of which I'm surely damned The epitaph should read on her slate "This gourmand's delight - how well she made a steak" Lying in state - these words you may rent To be sure you orate correctly, enclosed is my contempt
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"Appetite Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/3632441/A+Dawn+Without/Appetite>.
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