I have an underlying passion for food.
Just look at my waistline;
It tells a tale
Of wicked obsession with
Oral delights tickling taste buds
To snap to attention.
Marvelous scents tease
Olfactory senses,
Begging, pleading,
Wanting for more.
Baked or broiled, fried or
filleted,
Toasted or tossed to a turn,
Not to mention
I'm never left out when
They offer up seconds,
Or met a desert I didn't enjoy;
Obsessed with a fire raging out of
control
Which no flood of water can
possibly douse.
If this trend continues unchecked
and unaltered
With no end in sight, no method
employed to
Cure the beast that rages inside
me,
I'm sure that I'll soon be
The size of a house.
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