Not overcooked. Not undercooked. Just all half-baked goodness in every write.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Sesame Chicken
Oh, my ill fated self
Lured by your syrup trap
Foul art thou, crunchy bird
How you taunt rice of fried
Time will pass, yet you stay
Lead lumps lurk, leaving knot
Lay now I, splayed on couch
You, once, I savored sweet
Head now on pillow sleeps.
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