Hot Chick

i called this poem "Hot chick" which would make sense when you read it.
but it was one i put on poetry.com and people voted it bad and one said it was psychotic and disturbing.
its a bird, a chicken in fact. i was just explaining it as it really is. and it makes me hungry.

her fortune is told after reading the lines,
her death is coming in its designs,
even after death her body is maimed,
even when she is never named,
they cut off her head and feet,
they continue ripping at the meat,
from the rear her guts are ripped through,
from the oven now she is on the table for you.