The Breakfast Poem ( A very silly poem)

Melted butter on bread.
I sit at the dining table disturbed
By the blatant insult of the food
Staring at me with glistening eyes.

Bread and butter, again?
You have pushed your freedom, Cook!
You think you can drown
Me in your tray of butter-
Smeared food?

No, No, don't utter
Another word; no more
False praises and filthy excuses.
I've become wise and now I know 
Broth from butter.

Remove the apron and leave!
Do not linger anymore,
Exit and take your buttered snacks
That you fed me  with every day,
Turning my brains to grease.

A week without butter
Made  me desperate,
I hadn't become wise;
Big surprise!

The jar of half-empty butter
Seemed to sneer,
“Old habits die hard,
Burying them alive
Doesn't mean they will die”

Melted butter on bread.
I sit at the dining table disturbed
By the blatant insult of the food
Staring at me with glistening eyes.

 

 

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