Thinking of sweetness, stuffed myself even more
Afraid it'd run out, had to get even more
Dripping with honey, ran to store even more
Gorging, got nauseous, vomited everywhere
I thought that full was something better
Detestable is how it feels
Why must this be?
The honey used to taste delightful
Was it a poison actually
There to trap me?
Am I cursed? I've slighted no one
And I'm sure I know myself
The best so something's not right
This self is the only thing I love
To hear, to smell, to see, to touch
To taste is irreplaceable, no less