he calle me a warrior
just because i lived a life
harder than his

others commented
that's the easiest recipe of being a warrior

and here i am thinking
they have not even lived  through my struggles
neither they've faced my ordeals
nor felt my pain

how they have a right
to just pass words
that will stab like little needles
on my existence

making me stand as a question'
in front of everyone's eyes
where my answers will be treated as invalid
even before i will say them

that's not a warrior in their eyes
but a girl whose moves is out of their calculations
they just see me as nothing
and want me to believe that too

sadly, i am not easily influenced by someone's words
as i had so many problems to learn from
what was best for me
and i would call myself the queen who is skilled
in turning girls like me into an invlaid format
they can't decode

If someone were to make you, where would they begin?
Would they need a bowl, a cookie sheet, or some kind of molded tin?
Would you be sweet, a little sour, or even have a kick?
Would it be the knife that cut you, or the spoon from which they lick?
Would they start with cream to soften, or flour to make you thick?
Would the eggs just make you runny, or would they make you stick?
Would you need lemon zest, or pepper flakes, or chocolate chips?
Would you melt inside their mouths, or would you burn their lips?
Would you rise inside an oven, or would you boil above a flame?
Would they have memorized the recipe, or would they only know the name?

The human of all spiecies
The salt of all spices
The electrons to something bigger
The consiousness to the bigger picture.

How much code do you have to optimize to be able to store the human figure?
Do you have enough money in your bank account to secure the last drop of the pitcher?
Take away an infinite-number of amounts it will never really differ.

The proof is in the pudding but even with the key to success,
some people will wish to turn back into beginners
while others can not afford to enjoy that X-mas dinner.

The recipe shows we are prone to be sinners...

I was told I didn’t need to know the Ingredients
For making a child with a heart of Gold
That they were born holding a Medal
Which said they owned everything and All
Of it was because they had convictional Purpose
The doctor would cry and bring a rose Flour
To thank the mother for Baking
An excellent batch of babies, Soda
Would be poured in champagne glasses, Salt
Sprinkled a top its head to spread like Butter
The flavours of intellect and it also Softened
The hearts of others around; old wounds Granulated
Smelled like caramelizing Sugar
Inside the room, the bodies Packed
Together to peer at the Brown
Strings of hair atop the child, who’s Sugar
-like shrieks of life broke open the Egg
Of love and made it taste like Vanilla
Its tears looked the most Semisweet
A dripping fountain of Chocolate
Fondue, be careful not to Chip
The teeth when it grows, it will grow Coarsely
Then, like jagged pebbles Chopped
With a dull knife; finally, assemble the Nuts
And bolts tight because this will hurt ,if
Not properly done, or simply toss away if the kid wasn’t desired

Recipe for making a ****
"The God of Unknown"

Ingredients:
× Half a dozen of personalities 
× A spoonful of Unknown questions 
× 2/3 of darkness from Svalbard
× A Jar full of pain from the rain
× A whole book of poetries called Unlove
× Freshly hand-picked Metaphors
× A pinch of verses dipped in curses 

Even before starting the recipe, it could intoxicate you, to be safe until the end be patience and forget you have a heart to love.

Procedure:

Heat the cast iron pan on high flames,
Pour the pain boil it until you see bubbles,
then drop one by one all the personalities stir it well on low flames,
an ebullient aroma will start to fill the room
Now add a spoonful of Unknown questions, Questions that have souls attached to them be careful they might jump over you.
Now take the book cut through the pages,
book of poetries in a zig-zag pattern,
like the wrist of a lover who wrote poetries to hate her but couldn't Unlove her,
Now turn the flames to high and add 2/3 of the darkness from Svalbard an Ingredient that keeps the balance of the entity, stir until everything has been mixed well
Take a pinch of verses dipped in curses toss the pan and sprinkle the magic portion, an Ingredient that makes ripple in the timeline of every multiverse to relive the moments,
Finally, Garnish with freshly hand-picked Metaphors only for the ones persistence for the worthiness.

Eureka 
Your, **** has been created.

©sarcasticbong

My tongue be rubbing all over your ****,
Then the rest of that ***** I kiss,
That morning bliss,
I wanna lick on her until she ****,
Where you going don't you run,
Your juices is what I want,
I wanna feel you and taste you,
Breakfast,lunch,dinner and dessert.
You're the only thing I have a appetite for,
You got the recipe for whatever I need,
No need to beg nor plead,
But you're the only thing I wanna eat,
My favorite thing to eat and please is you.