How you are so lovely,
The
smell of you beginning to bake
Always
making me hungry.
Your
consistency is that of a sponge cake
Fresh
or not you are always crumbly.
Trust
me you were not a mistake,
When
someone made you they were feeling a bit nutty.
Except
now my stomach is beginning to ache,
And
there you are ready to melt in my mouth like putty.
I’m
sad to say that these were fake,
And
now my vision has gone a bit fuzzy.
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