My Favorite

My favorite day’s the slaughter day.

No other will release me.

My favorite bed’s the slaughtered dead.

No other comfort cleaves me.

My favorite spouse: the slaughter house.

Not one so sure secures me.

My favorite luck’s the slaughter truck.

No else so swift delivers me.

My favorite roam’s my slaughter home.

Nowhere so strong reminds me.

My favorite wife’s the slaughter knife.

None else knows deep inside me.

My favorite shade’s the slaughter blade.

No other so fresh chills me.

My favorite grain’s the slaughter pain.

No else so deeply fills me.

My favorite fan’s the slaughter man.

None else will closely hold me.

My favorite sign’s the slaughter line.

Nowhere else friends unfold me.

My favorite roar’s the slaughter floor.

No sound so honest warns me.

My favorite womb’s the slaughter tomb.

None left will so long warm me.

My favorite rhyme’s the slaughter time.

No end so strong repeats