Lovely Supper Poem by Soupy Pettry

As my teeth pierce this delicious flesh
I can feel the person at their time of death
I know what they're thinking, how they feel
Looking up to my red eyes, wondering if I'm real
I assure my friend I am there
I'm the breeze under your skirt, wind in your hair
I'm the sick feeling at every deadly wreck
Staring at you, breathing down your neck
I'm not the grim reaper, my name isn't Death
But that would be a good description of what's next
Don't worry I'm not going to leave you to die
I'll always take you in, hopefully eat you alive
See human bodies should never go to waste
They're o' so tender, with great spicy taste
The best one are girls with really soft skin
Blonde hair, blue eyes, a typical ten
I'm not lusting, or being a perv
It's they taste better, especially for desert.