I'm running low on cornflakes
Their box lies on its side
And huddled in the corner
The surviving flakes abide
There used to be a multitude
My bowl was seldom bare
I wasn't even hungry
But I ate without a care
A few fell on the worktop
I just brushed them to the floor
Breakfast seemed so fancy free
There was always plenty more
But now there's just a single bowl
Until my bank is bust
And about a third of what remains
Is crunchy bits and dust