Food for thought.

Yesterday we ate.
And so today we hate ourselves;
in every whey,
with every single fibre of our being.

For, in our tender state,
we blindly placed our faith in him:
The meat golum,
the “he” that every body else is seeing.

Do we have to make a meal

of such a minuscule misteak?

Can lessons not be learned from this?

You can’t un-bake this cake.

Today we’ll make the body pay
for what it made us do.
Today he feels the pain we do,
when he leads us astray.

No nutrients,
no protein bars,
no healthy snack for him.
No breakfast,
lunch or dinner
for this pickle we are in.