A tear escaped my glistening eye,
Why must this chocolate mousse taste so vile?
There is no rich creamy goodness tickling my tongue.
No. There is only watery waste of the Nile, clinging, chilling.
I shudder as the spoon draws near,
Yet open my mouth still.
The blob - I can call it nothing else,
It jitters like a shaking hedge.
And in my frightful, saddened state,
I let it fall back on a plate.
It watches me with sullen eyes,
And in that nightmarish brown guise,
I see my death that soon will come,
From the blob that I would not let inside.
That thing is probably alive....
YOU ARE READING
P-P-P-Poetry
PoetryMy amateur attempts at writing poetry. Don't expect too much, as this is as silly as it can be. Some though, may end up having deep meaning.
