Friday, August 6, 2010

Slave to the Waffle Light

I use the same batter as all the rest
Poured into the mold that we’ve always used
Standing still, I’ll wait as if possessed
I hope it’s form is perfect and not bruised
Motionless and thoughtless as I don’t blink
Giving no though to the time I spend
Regardless of what lays at the brink
I will still consume it in the end

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