Soupy ... me ... Satire

Ecclesiastes 4:5 

⁵ The fool folds his hands and does no work,
so he has nothing to eat but his own flesh.

Satire

Let this be well understood

“Flesh is flesh my man!”

A little here and a little there

Makes quite a pot of soup

With a mind of veggies

And some stuff that’s canned

We put it all together

Caught in the same loop

It started all so innocent

With a slap on the “hinny”

Then a scream, a cry, a tear

And there was a new beginning

All what’s happening now

Is far from milk and honey

As I get slapped around a bit

As my “world” seems spinning

The soup that I am today

Is surely over-seasoned

The after taste will surely

Be bitter and rang

Out of touch with reality

Far beyond any reason

The soup boiled over long ago

To depart without a bang