Fridge Pals

I arose, and from a deep doze 

Came the ever present storm of mania. 

Thunder, rain, and the pelting plead for alleviation 

Was only granted in the kingdom of the cooking room, 

In a small village some called Fridge, I called home.  

Friends from different pasts, histories, and origins 

Stared at me quietly, still, and without a breath.  

In this moment of tranquility, a ravenous outrage overcame me. 

I could not stop, but I cant help questioning if I really even wanted to.  

In a flash, everyone was gone.  

A few pounds heavier with guilt, I was satisfied.  

But how could I forget my best pals,  

A moment on the lips, a life time on the hips.  

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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