billy bob, he was just dough

he had no where to go

no way to get there

and nothing to show

💔

show for the first day

and everyday in between

just muddling there in his puddle

he began in a full scream

💔

dribbling down the counter he did

in a saunter but really he worried

if he never got a bit of heat

always clammy he would be

💔

years he remained fuddled

nobody to cuddle his puddle

into the huddle of other fellows

where they bake for just awhile

💔

piled high, and rolled back into the thick

there he was just holding his

but not his own – but rolled he was

and in a first time roll from after that

💔

here that he goes

an epiphany into the first light

into insight and mindset

found all that echoed true & right

💔

in that reverted state – a fresh rolled biscuit again

he was pure and without sin

whatever sin is – a manmade contrivance to put biscuits in a line

and in a line he went – constantly dying trying to be the biscuit he was meant to be

💔

so in a jam, as years passed by

still stuck in his purity

never escaping to the obscurity

of tested eradicators backing him back in the oven to an eternal bake

💔

in the oven he went

in tallied years unjustly spent

but too nice he was to douse the pilot

so to over a decade was he not to see the sky lit

💔

though eventually, out of the fire biscuit crawled

not knowing if he would ever see the outside of the oven

the embers still glow

and the trials of this still do echo

💔

so, chards fall in the walk and crawled

the wreaking of sulfur not his own

yet lingered like the falsities creepishly crept

so to unfold in the following – is the veracity tooled to the paper