There sat a biscuit.
Watching everyone pass by as it sat behind the glass.
Baked fresh, it wondered whose life it would come into.
Spreading much delight.
A divine purpose.
Sat on a plate covered with other food.
Covered in syrup.
Meeting where reason becomes purpose.
If it had legs, it would walk outside and advertise it's warm goodness.
Covered in gravy, perhaps cheese.
The world we live in.
Fast food