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.