The sandwich

For the world you were simply a sandwich,

Two pieces of breads with veg or meat in between,
But I saw in you what the world hasn't see. 
The world told your bread was so unattractive and a bore.
I say, the bread lived for a purpose, to hold the juice fresh core. 
The world said your core was not that great,
I say, I know you better, you were au fait,
The world said you were just a meal,
I say you were a package of many unique things, which's a big deal.
You were not an accident or someone's mistake,
You were made by a creator, you were a choice, a specific design, a specific taste.
Handpicked was every part, and with much love assembled like art,
Wrapped with much much care in a foil so that you were warm, unharmed and unspoiled. Your journey began in my kitchens womb, 
And you travelled a whole 12 kms in my vroom
And finally you landed on my plate. 
And I ate you without delay or late
You died without resisting so that I could live,
And for you to my God thanks I give.

By the one who killed it
Written by a friend